Merwyn
by nicolm2
Summary: Merwyn was just a girl when she awoke in the enchanted forest ten years ago. Alone for all that time, she is now joined by a mysterious stranger who may be the key to her escape.
1. Chapter 1: A Stranger Calls

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**Author's Note: **This is the revised/edited version of the prologue and first chapter. It's almost completely rewritten. This version is not beta read yet, but as soon as Anne reads it, I will repost. I just wanted you guys to get a feel for what I'm doing to the story. I've almost completely re-written it, so if you've already read it, maybe you'll feel like you're reading it for the first time? Feedback is much appreciated!

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_**Merwyn**_

_Prologue-_

Merwyn stared up at the moon with silent watchful eyes. She examined each pore and crevice and gazed on in awe at the exchange of the silvery liquid tint melding with the inherently dull grey color of the moon's surface. An inquiring hand reached up toward the sky, fingers splayed wide as if she might cup the orb in her palms and cradle it as she would a tiny bird.

She did this sometimes, when she wanted company. She would imagine a face in the round, full orb of the moon, and it would give her a small measure of comfort to believe that she was not alone.

She had never seen another person that she could remember, nor heard another voice, and at the times when she thought the solitude would break her, she would go outside, and stare intently into the countenance of the moon, trying in vain to learn its secrets.

She had appeared suddenly in the midst of this strange and terrible forest, when she was but a child, and the passing of time had been incredibly slow; the hours faithfully marked in her mind. She had no memory of how she had gotten here, only the faint recollection of her name.

Her first concrete memories were of waking in the small wooden cottage that she still resided in, and looking out of the window and seeing the vast sea of stretching green, and she felt her stomach drop inside of her. She had known instinctively that she was completely alone, but she ran outside and called anyway. Her voice had been hoarse when she finally stopped screaming for someone to help her. She gazed into the forest, and saw how dense it was, and knew that she must venture into it. She had to know for sure if she was alone. if there was civilization somewhere in the depths of untamed wilderness .

Her small legs wobbled slightly as she walked forward and had the unsettling feeling of being enveloped by the massiveness of her surroundings. She did not remember how long she had wandered, and she had spent days, weeks trying to find an end to the forest. She could not, for it did not end. It was an infinite mass of branches and leaves. She was weary to her very bones by the time she decided to turn back toward the cottage, it was a place to sleep and be warm if nothing else.

She then realized with a sickening fear that she had wandered so far into the wood that she could barely navigate her way back to the cottage that was like a blemish upon the visage of an otherwise beautiful face. The cottage was tiny, with only one room. On the outside, the wooden frame was deeply distressed, cracking in places, with remnants of color staining the wood in erratic spots.

Her first night back in the cottage, she learned a terrifying lesson: the wood was never stagnant. It constantly changed and moved like the currents of the wind. She was lying down trying to fall asleep, and the forest usually a good hundred yards distance from the cottage had crept silently like a snake upon its belly up to the windows. It completely surrounded the small house, until there was no exit, no refuge from its overwhelming presence. She curled into fetal position on the bed, a trembling mass of flesh. The tangy stench of pine, burned at her nostrils.

Wooden branches furiously tapped against the window as if wind-blown, and she gaped in horror as spindly finger like shapes raked against the glass, trying to get in. Strange, willowy shadows danced menacingly up and down the walls. Disembodied voices echoed in the hollow of the room, until even the silence was deafening. She wasn't sure if she had actually heard the voices or if in her extreme terror, madness had descended upon her. She could not decide which the greater evil was: to be outside in the midst of the forest as these things were happening, or to be trapped inside, where there was no escape from them.

She woke the next morning, her hands clamped over her ears, her mouth open, lips curled up in terror. She had never been more frightened in her life, and that never happened again. But there were times when she almost wished something terrible would happen if only to break the awful silence resonating in her ears. There was no one to talk to, and the stillness of the forest was only broken by the occasional chirp of a bird, or the howling of a lone wolf. Her voice had long since fallen into disuse, and she only spoke in moments of pure joy, or moments of terror. This did not leave a large margin for speaking, and when she did speak, her voice sounded strange to her ears. Distant, somehow.

She longed for companionship. For someone to talk to, to share her thoughts with. She had so many questions, and no answers. There were not many things in the cottage, but there were a few books. So, Merwyn did in a sense know that there were other people in the world. Someone must have authored the stories that she read hungrily. But, they were just a glimpse into a world that she could only dream of, and never satisfied the hunger for a companion. But where were these other people that she ached to meet? And why could she not leave this damned forest?

Her loneliness had welled up inside of her until she could feel nothing else, and she did something that she was ashamed to remember. It had happened about three years ago, when the internal ache for the presence of someone else, for her solitude to end, became overwhelming. She peered morosely down at her arm. The white paper-thin skin was stretched taut over the blue green veins that spread like the roots of a tree down the length of her wrist. She wished to grab a knife and slash at the essence of her existence, and let the blood trickle warm and sticky down her skin and her solitude would be ended.

She had grabbed a knife, and pressed it purposefully into her tender flesh. Her hand trembled, unsure as the skin dented under the tip of the blade. A pink flush rose to her skin, a steady reminder of the life flowing of her. She hesitated at the sharp prick of the knife, and groaned inhumanely in half-crazed frustration. She couldn't do it. She launched the blade at the wall, and it hit with a loud thud, and clattered to the floor.

"Coward!" she hissed bitterly. She could not end her own life. She just couldn't. She would spend the remainder of her days alone, but she _would_ live. A violent sob ripped from her lips. "Help me!" she called out. "God help me!" The sob wracked her shoulders, until exorcised. Then it was gone. "I don't want to be alone anymore," she whispered solemnly into the night, her voice a mere shadow.

That night had been a hard one to recover from, but she had done, it, and in a strange way had come to accept that she would live in the forest for the rest of her life. This would be her life, and she had to move on. She could not mourn what she did not know, and she did not know if there were any other people, or if there was a place other than the forest that she had come to despise.

Merwyn gave the moon one last languid glance, and turned back toward the house. The fireplace flickered, casting the windows in a comforting orange glow. The corner of her mouth rose into a faint smile, and she wrapped her arms tightly around herself as the wind began to pick up and nip at her fingertips. She closed the door quietly behind her, and crawled into the bed in the corner of the room and covered herself with blankets, making a sanctuary between her and the outside world. The wind tapped against the window for a few minutes, and then unsatisfied, left to call on some other place.

**_Chapter 1: A Stranger Calls_**

It was early morning when she awoke. The light from the square windows filtered into the room at odd angles, chopping up the room into bits of light and dark. She flopped back onto the bed with thud, and her arms flung up over her head. Then she heard it, a small crash and then a tiny "oof!"

Then silence again.

She sat up quickly, visibly startled and threw her blankets off her shivering body. There was a dark form in the opposite corner of the room, the only corner unburdened by furniture, but she could not quite make out a distinct identifying shape. Her feet quickly pressed against the hardwood floor, and she stood there, muscles tensed waiting for the ting to move.

It did not, it simply lay there lifelessly.

She gulped slowly, the saliva absent from her mouth making the swallow coarse and unpleasant. Her eyes widened unconsciously as the form began to tremble and come to life. It made more noises and then whimpered. Shaking more heavily, and gathering her courage around her, she called out to it, "Hello?" The word seemed almost foreign to her lips and she had to struggle a little when saying it.

The darkened figure, hiding in the last bit of dying shadow that graced the room, turned suddenly. It shot up to its feet, and the light shone upon it, revealing a face much like her own.

Human.

Her stomach dropped inside of her. So there were others like her! This thing, this person like her was so different, and so much the same. It had two hands, two arms, two legs. It had lips, and a nose, and eyes. And yet, it was taller than her, more heavily built, with broader shoulders, and more angular features. Its hair was short and dark golden brown much like the bark on trees in the wood. It had dark gray eyes that reminded her of the hazy, gloomy fog that heralded before a storm.

She tremulously backed away; both at once exultant that she had found another like herself, and frightened that this person would harm her somehow. These two emotions battled within her until she could stand it no longer. The curiosity and exultation won. "Who...are..." she paused, trying to remember the proper way to ask someone their name. She wasn't even sure that she had ever done it before. Her vocabulary was limited to that of a nine-year old self taught on a few books. Remembering, she inserted the last word, "you?"

The person standing tall opposite of her, shifted slightly, appraising her with his unsettling eyes. Her voice sounded odd, thick and distant, like that of a deaf person. She also talked a bit louder than necessary, and he wondered if she would even hear his reply. "Ruskon. My name is Ruskon."

Her eyebrows rose on the plane of her forehead, as she heard his voice. It too was very different from her own; it was deep and had a rich timbre to it.

He stared warily at this wild thing before him. Her eyes had an untamed looked painted in them, like she had long been fighting the decent into madness and the battle had scarred her and her eyes a somber green. She looked young, possibly in her late teens, he thought. Her entire body was taut, like she was waiting for him to make one false move, and she would bolt like a frightened deer out of the cottage and into wide open spaces. "Can you hear me?" he asked.

She gave him a distasteful look. "Yes."

"Oh. It's just that your voice sounds a bit… funny."

Merwyn had been by herself for ten long years, and during that time, the use of her voice had faded; without the benefit of being surrounded by language, she had lost the ability to hear herself when she talked. She sounded almost like a deaf person might, and the ability to speak normally again might only be gained back through hearing the way he pronounced his words, and intensive use of her voice.

She shrugged absently, and observed him silently; noting that his face was covered in tender green and purple bruises and a few cuts decorated his skin. She raised an eyebrow when she saw the garment that covered his bottom half. It completely encased his waist, and then continued to encompass each leg in cloth, and ended at his knees. His calves were covered in a thin white cloth that was soiled with various undeterminable substances and the fabric was torn in more than one place. Most unusual, she thought. She lifted her gaze, back to his face.

"Where are we?" he asked.

Her lips were awkward half moons as she tried to form the next words. "I do not… know."

Ruskon surveyed the cottage haphazardly. His eyes wide and stunned, and then he darted abruptly toward the door, and flung it wide open. It banged loudly against the wall and then swung shut. It only occurred to him after had begun running, that he had been amused that she looked frightened of him, and how he must of looked, running foolishly out of the cottage and into the wood! She must have thought him mad!

Merwyn was taken aback, and she followed after him without a second thought. She watched in astonishment as he careened violently toward the forest entrance, branches whacking angrily against his arms in protest. And then he was gone from sight.

She started after him, then thinking better of it and decided to wait for him on the front stoop. So many things were racing through her mind that they became a confused jumble of bits and pieces of thoughts.

Where had that person come from?

How did they get here?

Why did her voice sound funny?

She could not focus on anything, or one single answer. Her eyes were transfixed on the edge of the forest, waiting for the moment when the stranger would return.

Ruskon appeared through the trees a few minutes later, looking very dejected. She stood expectantly to her feet, and he approached her slowly, a look of dismay on his face.

"This forest… does it end?" his voice was thin and worn. "What's beyond it?"

She wasn't sure what he was saying to her, but she knew it was about the wood. She was silent for a moment too long, and Ruskon grew impatient.

"Well?" he irritably snapped.

Merwyn frowned at him, and held up a hand, a signal to wait. Patience was not one of Ruskon's strong traits, and he rudely tapped his foot as she collected her thoughts.

"It does not end," she finally said. "It goes on… forever."

"Unbelievable! This is totally unbelievable!" he screamed furiously. The harshness of his voice made Merwyn shrink back in fear. He ceased to realize that she was beside him, and he dropped bleakly to his knees, let out a guttural cry that sent shivers down Merwyn's spine, and then he pounded his fists forcefully into the ground, over and over. His breath came out in sobbing gasps. His knuckles were swollen and bright red, blood forming in the gashes on his fingers. She winced as his wounded fist met ground, anticipating the pain he would feel later when he was no longer numbed by fury.

Rage finally spent, Ruskon was still, his shoulders hunched over, legs carelessly curled beneath him. His breathing became slow and laborious, and then he was quiet.

Merwyn approached him as if he were a dangerous wild animal that would smell her fear if she got too close. She stood above him; her bronze colored hair fell down her shoulders like a curtain as she inclined her head toward him in curious examination.

He looked up at her, his face austere. "We're banished here. Forever."

He stood numbly to his feet and stumbled back to the cottage without saying another word to her. She hesitated wondering if she should follow him, and decided it would be better for him to be alone.

She walked along the edge of the house, examining her small garden, making sure her plants were growing according to schedule. She bent down into the soft tilled dirt, and fingered the leafy green tomato stalks that she had planted a few weeks ago. Small holes, dotted the plant's leaves, and she mentally cursed the bugs that had been eating at her plants. She would have to figure a way to keep them away from her garden. She sneered briefly, brushed the dirt off her skirt, and stood to her feet.

She decided it was time to go back, and see what could be done for this hapless stranger that had taken up residence in her living room. Surely it must be as confused and as scared as she had been when she arrived here. Well, maybe not as scared as she, she had been alone and but a child. She opened the door to the cottage, and it squeaked loudly as she did. Ruskon was sitting in the armchair and staring moodily into the fireplace. He jumped visibly at her entrance, startled by the sound. Merwyn smiled sheepishly at him, and shuffled in, quietly closing the door behind her.

He hopped to his feet, his cheeks stained pink with embarrassment. "I want to apologize for how I behaved just then. I—I didn't mean to frighten you." He gazed kindly into her eyes, hoping to convince her that he was not a monster. "It is not much of an excuse, but, I was briefly out of my mind. I—I wasn't expecting… well, there is just no good way to put this!" A brief smile flashed across his features.

She nodded as if understanding, but it took her a few seconds to fully comprehend his speech. "Oh," she absently stated. She looked uncomfortably around her, searching for some way to lighten the awkward moment, but she had no idea who this person was or of any social customs which were supposed to be accompanied with the meeting of someone. She was utterly lost in that regard.

He raised an eyebrow and looked at her questioningly. "Do you have a name?" he asked softly. This girl standing before him greatly resembled a frightened mouse.

She nodded, but she had not thought of her name it in so long that it seemed alien on her tongue. It sounded like the name of something else, perhaps a flower and not a person. "Merwyn," she said so quietly that he almost didn't hear her.

"Well, Merwyn, how long have you been exiled?"

She bit her lip, for her comprehension had left her once more, like a fog fleeing in the night. "I don't—I don't—" this speaking thing was beginning to become a burden. The words that she wanted to say came to her slowly and only in a half-light of remembrance. "Understand," she sputtered at last.

He smirked slightly, but his voice was gentle. "Yes, you have a complete look of bewilderment on your face. I take it you don't know where you are? Is that it?" He took care to be patient with her, not to frighten her.

She stared blankly at him. He spoke so quickly and expected her to understand just as fast, that she felt like a fool. And the feeling was entirely new to her, she who had been alone for so long.

"I'll take that as a yes," he answered. "Well, I'm not sure where we are exactly, but maybe if I tell you how I got here; it will be some sort of explanation. Where I come from there was a woman named Brona. She could do wonderful, horrible things using magic. She was a witch," he said severely.

He stopped, his eyes drawn to some other place, some other time. Merwyn stood quietly waiting for him to continue, while simultaneously trying to keep up with his narration. He looked back at her from the far off place that he had been, bridging the gap between them, and smiled slightly.

"Excuse me, where was I? Right, my father in a moment of desperation asked a favor of her, and he became indebted her. His payment, his curse, was that I was banished here. Debt paid," he said ruefully. His voice was thin. "I'm not sure where we are exactly, but I do know that is a place of the Witch's creation. It's not real. It's some sort of spell."

Merwyn sat upon the bed behind her and let his words sink in. In truth, she did not understand most of what was spoken. She sat quietly, dissecting his words piece by piece and trying to decipher their meaning. It took her awhile, but she posed what she thought was a vital question. "What is a witch?"

He laughed abruptly, almost mockingly. "Are you serious?"

She shook her head. "Yes. I may seem a bit-" pause again, "foolish to you. I have not spoken for such a long time." She smiled, proud at herself for completing a sentence without having to search for too many words. "I have been in this place for many seasons. So many, I have lost count. When I awoke here, I believe that I was about nine or ten years old. That was when I had-" she had forgotten the name of the reflecting glass that had once resided above the desk against the northern wall. "I don't know what it was called. It showed me what I looked like." She shrugged as if dismissing the thought. She remembered looking into the glass and seeing her reflection, but the memory of what she looked like was beginning to fade away. She remembered that she had had reddish brown hair, green eyes, and pale skin. The rest had disappeared into a distant archive of memory.

"A mirror?" he offered.

She smiled in recognition of the word. "Yes! A mirror! But, it broke, into so many pieces. I have not seen myself since." The words came more readily to her memory now, and she talked with an unsteady ease.

He looked slightly alarmed, "That must have been about ten years ago! You look to be about twenty! My God, have you really been here that long!" His words came out loud and fast, and Merwyn, not knowing why was slightly perturbed.

"I don't understand why you are talking so loud now. But, if you say I look about that age, you would know better than me." She stood to her feet again, and slowly stepped over to the window to gaze out at the only world she had ever known. It wasn't even real. Everything she had known was a lie. Tears rolled mutely down her cheeks, and she didn't wipe them away.

She unconsciously clenched her hands, not quite used to this emotion of anger; it was so all encompassing. She had never felt this way before; there were so many things she had never experienced before. So many things lost. He walked up behind her, not sure what to do.

"I didn't mean to frighten you." It came out an empty sentence and he let it drop away awkwardly.

She continued to stare out the window. "I know. Oh, I really don't know!" She spun around to face him. He smiled reassuringly at her.

"When I was alone here, I used to wish for somebody else to talk to. You know, I've never had a friend," she said the last word as if it were sacred. "And now that someone else is here with me, I'm not sure what to do."

He placed his hands on her shoulders and stood firm and square in front of her. "I'll tell you what we are going to do, we are going to escape! We are going back to the real world, where there are other people and such beautiful things." He looked out the window beyond her head, "and not this dark wood that does not end."

"It doesn't!" she cried. "I've tried to leave it more times than I can count, and I've always ended up here again. No, I don't think there is a way to escape. It is here we shall die." She said this so nonchalantly that it deeply unsettled him, in her tone there was culmination of many years worth of despair, such as he had never known.

"There has to be!" he said almost desperately. "I know a little more about witchery than you do. There is always a way to escape!"

She nodded half-heartedly. She knew all too well the folly of false hope. She had let it wound and jade her until there was almost nothing left of the girl that had first arrived in the wood. Not that she knew much about that girl anyway. "We can try. But, I've been here a lot longer than you, and I know the forest better than you do. You don't know... it like I do." She said wryly, lifting her hand and gently pressing her fingers against the glass of the window, as if trying to use it as a conduit to empty herself of her chaotic emotion. It was cold against her skin, and she shuddered. She let her hand drop back to her side, and stared back at him. "What am I to do in the real world? For all I know, I have no father and no family. I have no place. I don't even know who I am."

He let his hands fall from her shoulders. He watched her for along time, letting silence build awkwardly between them as he tried to concoct the right words to say to her. He couldn't find any. "If when we get back, we cannot find your family, I will be your family." He said it reassuringly and although Merwyn was not altogether used to the patterns of speech, she received its intended affect, she felt better.

"I don't know family," she mildly stated. There was no emotion attached the sentence, and Ruskon couldn't tell what she was thinking. She backed unsteadily away from the window and sat in her chair again. Family. To have someone to love her, and want her and take care of her, it seemed too good to be true. But, she went along with Ruskon's plan, because she so desperately wanted to be able to hope. "You can sit on the bed. There isn't much here," she said referring to the sparseness of the cottage.

"Yes, I've noticed." He studied her one more time, at her hair that was an odd color he had never seen. It was almost red, and almost brown, but not quite either. He yawned, and thought that he had never felt this tired before, and so he let his eyes grow weary and close to the light of the day.

Merwyn smiled softly at him as his head settled resolutely on her pillow and he drifted off to sleep. She got up and went outside, and into the dark wood that surrounded the cottage. She gazed into to its deep green, almost black, depths and smirked. None of it was real, and she was going to escape. She was going to see the places she had dreamed of. The vast blue water that went as far as the eye could see; cliffs that hung over the water like guardians. These places would be real to her soon. Ruskon was going to help her, he would be her family, and he would help her understand this new world that she was going to be a part of. She would never be alone again.

Never.


	2. Chapter 2: A Wolf In the Night

**_Author's Note:_ **Chapter 3 is coming soon. So please review and tell me what you guys think! I'll be waiting!

**Chapter 2-**

When Ruskon awoke, he momentarily forgot where he was. He woke to find himself in a one room cottage, very scantily furnished. There was a desk against the wall to the north of him, and the wall above it was blank. To the east of that wall, there was a rocking chair that looked as if it was about to break the next time someone sat in it. Next to the chair, was a small pile of ancient looking books, their pages well worn with use. There was an area rug that was a deep purple against the faded wooden floor, and a small fireplace next to the rocking chair that looked as if it hadn't been cleaned in years.

On the west wall there were two windows, very small and gilded, but clean and easy to see out of. Next to this wall, there was a chest, what was in it, it he didn't know, but it was very large, at least five feet wide and two feet deep. He examined the bed that he was on and it was medium-sized with raggedy blankets on it, worn from use. There was a window above the bed, it too was gilded. Aside from that, the room contained nothing else. It was bare, but it looked well lived in and inviting.

For that short span of time, Ruskon forgot where he was. He forgot his banishment and meeting Merwyn and their plan to escape. All of it was fog inside of his brain. He looked out of the window as memory began to dawn on him, and seeing the darkened forest with a starless night sky, he remembered the desperateness of his situation and his need to escape. To return home to England, where his manor was, by the cliffs overlooking the sea.

But, where was Merwyn? He was clearly alone in the cottage. He waited a few minutes more, and seeing that she did not return, left the cottage for the first time to find her. When he opened the door, he was met with a light breeze that ran across his skin like fingers gently dancing across the surface. He closed his eyes and savored the niceness of the moment. Opening his eyes again, he continued onward, the entrance to the wood was thick and the branches were a mahogany brown with gnarled limbs that were interwoven together. Leaves densely blanketed the forest floor and covered any trail Merwyn might have taken. This was all compounded and made more complicated by the fact that forest was so closely packed together that the treetops made a canopy too thick for moonlight to filter through, and he was walking in virtual darkness.

He began to feel uneasy when he entered the forest and the trees shifted behind him, moving from their places into other ones and so, he could no longer tell where he had entered. There was an uneasy chill shooting through his chest and down his fingertips, and yet he still continued. Merwyn had ventured into this forest many a time, and she had survived. He was man, and if he couldn't do this, what was left of him? He would consider himself a coward not worthy enough to claim his father's name. Shame was not a pleasant word, and he did not want to find out its true meaning.

He looked to the right of him, and a white smear shot across his peripheral vision. He turned his head and saw a lightening white wolf running across the wood, dodging trees and branches gracefully before disappearing into the thick. He heard a loud snap behind him, as if branches were breaking and turned to greet whatever it was that was behind him. He saw only darkness.

He imagined that he heard the voices of the forest whispering dark messages to him, ones of his death, and how it would happen. He wanted to run, scream, and be free of this wood that was beginning to feel like a grave.

It was then he stumbled upon the open meadow, with high grass and wildflowers of all colors dotting the field. Here he felt a sense of sanctuary, a relief from the terror of the wood. And that is where he saw her. Moonlight shining down in silvery spirals that fell upon her hair, making it look more red than he remembered. She was poised as if waiting for something and he inadvertently tensed, waiting for her to move. She didn't. She stood there unmoving, as if she were a statue and he wondered if she was a dream.

He started to move, but then her head shifted and swung to look at him. He froze again, but she stared past him, and he heardrustling behind him from the forest. Out of the leaves and branches appeared the bright white wolf and it slowly stalked past him and toward Merwyn. He was unsure. Should he call out to her, and warn her, tell her to move? Or observe what was about to take place? She seemed like she was expecting this wolf, like she knew it. He waited and gazed at them both. A meeting was taking place, he was sure of it now.

The wolf paused reverently in front of Merewyn. It stared up at her with charcoal gray eyes, knowing and wise. It bowed, if that it what it can be called, gently on its front legs and then rose. Ruskon's eyes widened as he watched this.

Merwyn's face was hidden beneath the blanket of darkness and he could not see her expression, but he could see her mouth moving quickly as if a message was being relayed. But, he could not hear the words spoken, and he fought with the urge to move closer, to make himself known.

The wolf backed away from Merwyn, and then turned on its haunches and ran into the the woods to disappear once more like a ghost in the night. Ruskon shifted slightly as if coming out of a trance, and when he did, his eyes fell upon Merwyn standing in front of him looking ethereal and majestic. He thought that if he blinked while she was in front of him she would disappear with the wind, he tried to resist the urge to blink.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered in the darkness, her words floated to his ears as if rousing him from some waking dream.

He shook his head. "Looking for you. Where are we? What were you saying to that wolf?"

She smiled questioningly. "What wolf?" She looked behind her into the darkened meadow searching for the wolf he spoke of. She was beginning to understand speech much easier now, and was falling into an easy repose with him.

His expression grew frustrated. "The one that was just in front of you. It was white. So white. I've never seen anything like it."

Merwyn touched his forehead and felt no trace of fever. "Are you well? I was just out here... doing..." she paused as if trying to recall a memory long forgotten. She did not continue.

"Well?" he questioned, his eyes peering into hers. But she was searching her mind for answer that didn't seem to exist.

She stared blankly at him. "I don't know what I was doing. I think..." she faded off again.

Ruskon clenched his fists in a display of impatience, but Merwyn took no notice of it. "You don't know or you wont tell me?" his voice was becoming angered.

She shook her head incredulously. "I really don't remember! I was standing there," she gestured to the spot she had previously occupied in the meadow. "Looking for something. What was it?" she said to herself. "And then, you were here, and I saw you. And I came over." She was alarmed at this missing time he had informed her of. How could she not remember something that happened five minutes ago!

Ruskon raised an eyebrow at her. "That's all you remember? In earnest?"

"Earnest?" she questioned.

"Truthfully?" he offered this time, trying to see if this word was in her small vocabulary.

"Yes. Truthfully. _Earnestly_." she enunciated this word for emphasis. "That's all!"

Ruskon's eyes became curious, ponderous. Maybe there was something more going on here. Something to do with why she was here, and her banishment. Maybe it was part of the witch's magic taking place. Maybe he had witnessed something important.

"What?" Merwyn questioned.

Ruskon held up a hand to tell her to wait. "Something just happened. I'm not sure what, but let's go back to the cottage and figure it out. We have much to talk about and much to plan."

She nodded and took his hand and led him through the wood. She paused at points, looking as if she was figuring out a puzzle. Then she would continue on to a new path, and sometimes in an opposite direction. Ruskon noticed that with Merwyn, the wood no longer seemed the terrifying place it had been previously. It was still vast and deep, but no longer ominous nor malicious.


	3. Chapter 3: Plans for Escape

**_Author's Note:_** Okay, sorry for the last chapters. I didn't upload my documents right and some of the words were all squished together. But, I believe I've learned my lesson.  
Please review. Hope this chapter doesn't suck; it's kind of filler for more action-packed chapters. Thanks to all my reviewers, I was hoping that I wasn't the only one who saw something interesting in this story. You guys make writing the story fun! 

**Chapter 3-**

They reached the cottage after about half and hour of walking through the ever-changing wood. He was surprised to see that the fireplace was lit and there was food on top of the chest. Merwyn noticed his look of surprise and giggled softly. "Yes, the cottage does this. Whenever it is cold outside, there will be a fire in here. Every morning and night there is food on that chest. It just appears. I don't know where it comes from."

"Part of the enchantment, I'd venture. The witch doesn't want us in the real world, but she apparently doesn't want us to starve or freeze to death." Ruskon commented sarcastically, shrugging and going to inspect what food was given them. It was warm roast beef with boiled potatoes, and carrots. He looked at it with distaste.

Merwyn started cutting up the roast beef and passing him bits on a piece of cloth, as there was only one plate. She glanced at him, gave him a small smile, and looked away shyly.

"Are you observing me, Merwyn?" he asked, amused.

She blushed. Embarrassment too was a new emotion to her, and she wasn't quite sure how she was to deal with it. So, she told him the truth, thinking that is what people did when they were embarrassed. "I'm not quite sure how to say it, but, are you unusual looking or am I?" she gazed at him steadily now, ready for the information he would provide.

His face contorted in confusion. "Unusual looking? Neither of us is. What do you mean?"

She blushed more deeply. "It's just that... I've never seen another person, and you are very different than I am." She took a small bite of her roast beef and observed how her comment had affected Ruskon. She was becoming a quick study of the human face, and all its nuances.

He broke into a full laugh, one that continued for a while. Merwyn was now the one who got to be confused. "What!" she sputtered. "I don't understand!"

He laughed again, harder this time. She spitefully took a bite of her roast beef. Obviously people in the real world did not reveal everything they were thinking. She would take note of that. He continued laughing and she hid her face behind the shelter of her hands.

He sobered up, and pulled her hands away from her face. "Merwyn, forgive me. I didn't mean to tease you, it's just that." He had to pinch himself to stop from laughing again. She frowned. "Merwyn, the reason that I look different from you is that I am a man." He acted as if this illustrated everything that she had been questioning.

She gave him a look of bewilderment. "So?"

He chuckled softly this time, containing the laughter that welled up like a bubble in his throat and threatened to burst from his mouth. "That means that you are a woman. We are two different sexes. Do you see?"

She shook her head. "No. What is a man? I mean, I've read about them in books, but I don't understand the difference between man and woman."

He was slightly embarrassed now. "It's... delicate. Men are...ah... women are..." he sputtered trying to find a way to explain the differences between men and women with some propriety.  
"Women are nurturing and men are calculating. We're just different." He smirked, satisfied with his explanation. Merwyn raised an eyebrow.

She gave him a look of disbelief. "That's it? That's the difference between you and I? I mean because you have a much larger body than mine, and I've noticed that you don't have those two lumps on your chest like I do, and what is that garment that you are wearing on your lower half?"

He stopped her by covering her mouth. "That's the difference! Trust me!"

She still looked unbelieving, but let the subject drop and continued to eat some more of her vegetables. After a few minutes, she broke the silence between them. "Are they different the way that animals are different? Like deer? There are the ones with antlers and the ones with out."

He threw her an amused glance, relieved that she had devised her own explanation to the mysteries of the sexes. "Yes, like that." Then he softly laughed to himself again.

She looked satisfied and the distracted look that had been written across her features disappeared.

"Now, enough of this side talk. We need to start coming up with a plan of escape."

She nodded in agreement. "But how, Ruskon? We are trapped in this world. We just can't leave it."

"Yes I know, but I told you, I know a bit more about witchery than you do. I don't know why,  
but always within spells are the key to its undoing. Like in the case with Sleeping Beauty, all the prince had to do was kiss her and the whole kingdom awoke."

She bit her lip. "I don't think I've ever heard the tale of Sleeping Beauty. Where have you heard it?"

He coughed into his fist as if trying to erase her question. There was no need to tell her that much of what he learned of witchery had come from simple fairy tales. "It doesn't matter. It was just an example. But always in spells and enchantments, there is a key to its undoing. We just have to find the key to the spell, and we can leave. We'll be free."

Free. The word danced across the floors of her mind. It was a beautiful word, and she ached to know its meaning in the fullest sense. She had never known freedom, always she had been a prisoner with no chains. "Yes, but how are we going to find this key?"

Ruskon frowned. "I don't know. All the tales talk of friends working together, princes who save the princess. They never talk of two ordinary strangers involved in dark magics. We shall have to figure it out on our own."

Merwyn gave a sigh of exasperation. "But, it could be anything. You could be the key. I could be the key. That desk over there could be the key. We have no way of knowing."

"Yes, Merwyn. You are quite right." He smiled impishly. "We shall have to investigate!"

"You are too sure of yourself all the time. I don't understand you at all."

"You seem to favor that phrase, 'I don't understand.'" He mocked.

She glowered at him from beneath her auburn lashes, making him smile all the more triumphantly. She didn't know why exactly, but this smile irritated her acutely. "Where will we 'investigate' first? I'm not exactly sure what investigating means," she unwillingly admitted.

"It means we will have to search, to look for the key. We will use the sources we have to figure out a mystery."

"Fine. What will we look for first?"

"You, Merwyn. You are our first clue to discovering the key."

"Me?" she asked, surprised. "How?"

"That wolf. It bowed to you. Like you were special to it somehow. It spoke to you. It told you something. We have to find a way to contact that wolf. Why did you go outside in the first place?"

Merwyn shrugged. "Because you were in my bed, and I had nothing else to do."

He shot a look at her. She smiled sweetly in return. "Well then, why did you wander so deeply into the forest?"

She paused for a minute, seeming as if she was recalling the answer. "Because it called to me."

"Called to you? Like with voices?"

She gave him a sarcastic glance. "Yes. With voices. No, I felt drawn to it, I guess. I mean, I don't remember exactly. I looked out the window after you fell asleep, and I saw how deep and green the wood was, and I knew that I had to go to it. That it was calling me."

He let that digest. "Okay, does this happen to you often?"

She shrugged. "I guess."

"And do you not remember what happened every time?"

"I don't know, Ruskon. I've never had anybody ask me. I didn't know that I was talking to a wolf,  
so how would I know that I wasn't remembering something I didn't know was happening?" Frustration was evident in her normally even tempered voice. Ruskon chuckled softly to himself.

"Sorry. I just keep forgetting that you were by yourself for so long."

She nodded gently. "Yes. It was so long. Longer than I thought I could take. But, I survived it.  
I was strong." She said each word slowly, as if they were a burden that she had set down for the final time, never to carry again. And yet, at the same time a sense of pride colored her voice, showing that she had felt her self weighed in the balances and not been found wanting. She was a defeater and not the defeated.

They went into another prolonged silence and Ruskon thought about what it must have been like to live alone for ten years. To never know that there others like you. It must have been horrible. And to happen to her when she was so young. Merwyn was the strongest person he had ever met, and he barely knew her.

"Well then, I know what I have to do." He unwillingly broke the silence. He was beginning to like the sense of camaraderie that he felt with her. He wasn't sure had ever known such before.

"What?" she asked, scraping her plate of the last bit of roast beef and vegetables. When it was gone she looked at her plate with sorrow, she was still hungry.

"I will have to watch you. Especially at night, for when you get called into the forest again. It is then that you are most likely to meet with the wolf again. When you do, I will get close enough to hear what you are saying to it. What do you think?"

She nodded. "It sounds good to me. I just wonder something."

"Huh?"

"When are you going to sleep? If watching me is going to be taking up your time, when are you going to rest?"

He paused. "I don't know. But, that doesn't matter now. I won't rest anyways until we escape from here and are back in England. Back home."

There was a longing in his voice that Merwyn only partially understood. Her longing was filled with questions of what was beyond this world. His longing sounded obsessed with something entirely different. She wasn't sure what, but if she had to guess, she would say a sense of belonging. This word home that he had said so reverently was where he belonged. She wanted to know what that felt like, and she wondered if she could feel it with him.

"Alright, but if you get ill, don't complain to me."

He lowered his eyelids at her teasingly, "I wouldn't dream of it."

"We should probably go to sleep now. I don't think that I'll feel the woods calling me twice in one night."

"You're probably right. But, where will I sleep?" he was referring to the lack of accommodations in the cottage.

She hadn't thought of this before. "I guess, you can have the bed, and I'll take the floor."

It was a shameful suggestion to him. He wouldn't dream of it. "No. I'll take the floor. You the bed. Are there any extra blankets?"

She laughed softly. He smiled at the sound. It was pleasant to his ears. She had been almost mournful when he had first laid eyes on her, and he worried that she might have been corrupted by her time alone here. Driven mad by the solitude. But now, only a few hours after meeting, he felt that they had known each other infinitely longer.

"There's nothing extra here, Ruskon. But, you can have one of my quilts."

He was moderately amused by her referring to the raggedy blankets as quilts, but he didn't offer this bit of information to her. She handed him a quilt and an old pillow from her set and he laid them on the floor.

"Maybe you'd be more comfortable on that rug," she suggested, referring to the purple area rug.

"No, I would rather sleep here," he was referencing the spot on the floor next to her bed, "if you move and get up in the night, I will be woken up. It's easier here."

She saw the logic in this and climbed onto her bed, wrapping her lonely quilt around her until she could feel no breezes raking against her skin. She sighed contentedly. This day had been one made of dreams. She had found a friend. Someone to call her own. That was more than she had ever hoped for.

"Merwyn?" Ruskon called up from the floor.

"Yes?"

"Do you snore?"

She took a few seconds to answer. "I'm not sure I know what snoring is."

She heard a stifled chuckle from below her. "It's when you make loud noises through your nose when you sleep. It's quite annoying, actually."

She opened her mouth to answer, and then closed it tightly. He was teasing her again. "I wouldn't know Ruskon, I've never had anybody complain, I guess."

He laughed heartily in reply. "Goodnight."

"Yes, goodnight." She said with mock irritation, but there was a smile plastered to her lips and Ruskon could hear it in her voice.

Then the fire blazing softly in the corner; crackling against the wood it was burning was the only noise in the room, and both drifted off to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4: Meeting in the Meadow

**Chapter 4-**

Ruskon had spent all of the next day becoming accustomed to the wood. Merwyn taught him its secrets, those of them that she knew, because as she'd told him, the forest was a mystery even to her.

"I used to think it a frightful thing," she'd told him. "Full of things that wanted to hurt me. The branches were terrible monsters, reaching out for me."

She had laughed at the memory, but he'd known what she'd meant. The wood was not a place to dawdle in. They'd roamed the woods, and Merwyn showed Ruskon the wild herbs that grew there, those that were good for medicinal purposes and those that were good to eat. He'd wondered how she had learned which were which.

She had laughed wryly, "Trial and error. I've gotten sick on many a bad herb."

The day had died away slowly; the last bits of sunlight streaked across the sky, showing blood red against the dawning twilight, as if a battle had been wrought and the darkness had won. He'd never thought anything so beautiful and he stared up at the exchange of colors in awe. Merwyn had watched it with him, but she saw nothing spectacular in the night like he had.

"Night always comes. It's the start of another day. It marks the beginning of another day in this place."

Little by little, pieces of Merwyn were revealed to Ruskon. The pieces of her that grieved losing her childhood, and living a solitary life. She tried to keep them to a minimal, but he'd studied the waves of her voice as they left her mouth and he could hear the underlying sorrow in them. He could see it in some of her glances that held a plethora of emotions too vast to comprehend. It made him feel empathy for her and a need to identify with her on some p lane, and he wasn't sure how. There was a gap between them that he wanted to cross, but he didn't think it would be easy.

Now Merwyn was asleep and he watched her in the darkness. The shadows dancing across the features of his face, making him look older and scarred. His mind wandered back to England, back to the sounds of the waves crashing against the rocks of the beach near his home. He was remembering his last conversation with his father.

"Son, I wish that I wasn't old. I wish that my body wasn't betraying me, and dying. I wish things could be different." The voice that had once been youthful and vigorous, was now weak and cracking around the edges.

"You're not dying," Ruskon said weakly.

His father gave him a wearied smile. "I don't deserve you, Ruskon. You're a good son, and you're going to be a good man. But, I've committed an injustice against you. Only, when I did it, I didn't know what the cost would be." His father reached out for his son's hand, and Ruskon took it gently in his own.

"What do you mean? I don't understand."

His father coughed roughly and then breathed unsteadily. "I made a deal with a witch."

Ruskon laughed. "Father, you are tired. Sleep." He shook his head. "Talking of witches. You're getting ridiculous in your old age," he gently chided.

His father stared at his son with serious eyes. "No. It's the truth, my son. I made a deal with a witch when I was a young man. Your mother…" the old man coughed roughly again, and blood spattered wet against his fist. Ruskon felt alittle sick at the sight. His father was dying, this was really happening. He was twenty-two years old, and he would have to say goodbye to his father.

"Mother what, Father?" Ruskon prodded.

"Your mother was barren. She couldn't have children, and we wanted a child so badly, we didn't care about the cost." His voice was urgent, almost panicked. Ruskon listened with wide eyes. And when I was a boy I had heard of a woman in the village who cast spells, who could give you what your heart desired! I went to her, and she was a bad woman, son. She told me-" his father took a long ragged breath, his voice growing weaker. His grip on Ruskon's hand softened, and Ruskon compensated by clutching his father's hand tightly.

"If you're tired, you don't have to go on." Ruskon pleaded with his father.

His father shook his head. "No, I have to tell you. You have to know what's to come."

Ruskon sucked in a breath of air through his teeth, and it hurt his lungs. "Go on."

"She told me I had the pungent odor of one whose heart is pure. She said it made her sick. She said she would watch me suffer one day, and would relish in the smell of my broken heart. She was evil, but I didn't care. I wanted you. I wanted a son. And a son I got. She gave me a philter for your mother to drink, and she said that by the next full moon, a child would be growing inside of my wife. She warned me before I left, that there would a price to pay. I offered her money, and she refused. She told me when the time was right, my greatest possession, my greatest treasure would be hers. I didn't understand then," his father whimpered softly, "but now I do."

"What, Father? What is it?" he was sure that he had never seen his father cry, it was gut wrenching.

"She meant… she meant—you, Ruskon. I didn't understand then, and now… it's too late. I can't protect you anymore. She's coming for you. I'm so sorry. I never meant for any of this. I just wanted to have a son so badly. I'm afraid of what's to come, Ruskon. What will happen to you?" his father looked at him with fear in his eyes, his face haggard.

Ruskon was beginning to feel his disbelief disappear and give way to a sense of terror. Could this be true? He didn't know. But, his father obviously believed it very strongly, enough to risk the last embers of his waning health.

Ruskon saw Merwyn shift on the bed, pulling him out of his reverie. She moaned a little, as if she was dreaming of something pleasant, and then she was silent. He waited to see if she would do anything else, and for a few minutes she was perfectly still, until she shot up straight in the bed, startling him.

"Merwyn?" he called out to her, his voice muffled in the dark. She didn't answer, her eyes were transfixed to some other place. She stood deftly to her feet, walked to the door, and pulled it open letting the night air filter in thick and cool inside the cottage.

He watched her as she walked out into the night, and he was mesmerized by the grace in which she navigated the forest branches. He followed her in the hopes of discovering the wolf again. She had started at slow dream-like walk, which was now a strenuous run. Rukson was breathing heavily as he pursued her into the woods. But every time he would catch up to her, she would disappear into a patch of blackness, engulfed into the forest and she would be lost to him. He would have to run after her into the shadows. The fear of the forest the had previously plagued him, would come upon him again, and he would have to adamantly push the thoughts of terror out of his mind until all he thought of was the pursuit.

He caught up with her again as she entered the meadow that they had been in last night, when they had seen the wolf. She was quiet and still in the middle of the grass, which ran up to her mid-thigh. She was staring up at the moon, which was silvery and magnanimous against the blue-black of the sky. He stopped behind her, his cheast heaving, his lungs gasping for air. His body shivered with the effort of the run and he wanted to collapse. He wondered that Merwyn was still standing, that she wasn't breathing heavily. She continued to stare at the moon as if trying to understand a secret that could only be deciphered through careful study.

She turned her head suddenly, and looked across the vast expanse of the field to the other side where he saw some rustling. He held his breath in his throat, hoping that it was the wolf, the key to the mystery of their curse.

It was.

Once again, it stalked slowly toward Merwyn, each step majestic and labored. Ruskon admired the unhindered beauty of the wolf, it's pure white coat that glistened underneath the sheen of the moonlight. The wolf stopped in front of Merwyn, it bowed solemnly on its front paws and then rose. Merwyn remained still.

Every muscle in Ruskon's body was tensed, he didn't know what the wolf would do if it saw him, if it knew that he was listening. He heard the wolf's voice for the first time; it was velvety and rich. It was deep and ancient, as if the wolf had been around since the dawn of time, and seeing how the world had progressed, had grown bored with living.

"Greetings, Daughter of the Forest." It addressed Merwyn. She gave a slight curtsey in response.

"Hello, Father," she answered softly. Her voice was unreal and faded.

Ruskon's stomach dropped in shock. Was this just a greeting, or was she calling this wolf her father?

"You have returned to me once again," the wolf continued. Ruskon listened with the utmost care.  
"I have waited for you since the end of the night previous."

"I know, Father." Merwyn stated. "I too have waited. I felt you calling me from the depths of the forest and I knew that I had to come."

The wolf nodded. "Aye, I have been calling you. I have felt the magic that has kept us in this place weakening. I have felt it grow thin. Something happens on the world outside of this one."

Ruskon's breath grew thin, and his fingers gently rustled a few of the leaves. The wolves eyes narrowed knowingly. "You brought the man with you, Merwyn?" the wolf questioned.

Merwyn's face blank and trance like, crumpled in confusion. "I know not, Father." She turned her behind her to stare into the blackness of the wood. Ruskon froze. Merwyn's eyes met his, and he felt the coldness in her stare. He gulped slightly.

The wolf made a soft barking noise, that Ruskon took for a chuckle. "Come out, Son of the Forest."

Ruskon's skin grew cold. The wolf was talking to him. Never one to back down from a challenge, Ruskon walked forward into the field. The moonlight shining down upon him, washing the darkness from his features, revealing his full visage to the wolf.

The wolf smiled.


	5. Chapter 5: An Identity Revealed

**Chapter 5-**

Merwyn continued staring straight forward. Her eyes transfixed to some other land unseen to Ruskon. He was frightened, but more than anything, he was curious about what was going to take place.

"Come forward, Ruskon of Brighton, son of Alfred." The wolf spoke, its voice was rough and chalky against Ruskon's ears, but it bade him to obey and he did.

Ruskon shivered at the thought of the wolf knowing his place of origin; it knew his father's name. Not even Merwyn had known where in England he had come from, and this wolf knew. Its eyes were a piercing hazel, and they penetrated to Ruskon's core, observing who he was, and what his heart was like. He shifted uneasily on his feet underneath the wolf's gaze. The wolf did not waver. "Yes?" Ruskon answered. He did not know what to say, and his words came hindered on his tongue.

Merwyn glanced for the first time at Ruskon, but she did not look at him the way that she had always done. Her stare was blank, and empty of all recognition of Ruskon as her friend. He tried to ignore how this made him feel, and looked back to meet the wolf's piercing eyes once more.

"You have been banished here, like us?" the wolf questioned.

Ruskon nodded silently. The wolf seemed to let Ruskon's answer filter through the air and then after a few moments, seemed to accept it.

"Merwyn is my daughter," the wolf stated abruptly. "My name is Edward. We too are from Brighton. But I know you because I knew your father. He was my best friend."

Ruskon was taken aback, his mouth dropped slightly and his hand reached instinctively for Merwyn's, but she was not there. Not the way he needed her. Her face was still blank and unseeing and her body was stiff. He dropped his hand.

"Yes, I know you are shocked. You probably have many questions. Most are probably regarding Merwyn."

Ruskon did not move, and the wolf seemed to take this as confirmation. Ruskon wanted to float away from the field on a wave of the wind, and be drawn to some other place, where he would be warm and safe. He was tired, weary even.

"I know your emotions, my child. I have felt them all too acutely myself. I know you want to go home. I know you are scared. But, let me talk to you. Let me tell you about Merwyn. She knows nothing of her own life. She knows not that I am her father. Only when the moon is out, and I have called to her from across the forest does she know somewhere inside of her that I am her father. She's very much asleep even when she's awake. You see, when the witch banished us here, she gave us each a curse. Mine is this beastly form. But Merwyn's curse was far worse and entirely crueler. She was cursed to be alone, to forget all of her life before the day she came here."

Ruskon was perplexed. "Why doesn't she know you as her father? I mean, you are a wolf, but Merwyn is very brave. She would not be frightened of you. Why couldn't you end her loneliness and tell her who you are?"

The wolf was silent and still. "No. I don't think she would be afraid." His voice was pensive and quiet. Ruskon marveled that wolf's voice could be so tender and beautiful. He was a beast, but a refined one. Ruskon felt his fear ebbing slowly away, and being replaced by a sort of admiration for this beast before him, who could be so regal and feral all at the same time. "She's brave, my daughter. I have watched her go along with her daily life, with her thinking that I was but a beast. She was kind to me, and she did not fear to reach out her hand to me, and give me food. She's a better person than she has any right to be under the circumstances of her life. To be alone all of your life, Ruskon. Can you imagine it?"

Ruskon shook his head. He could not. He did not want to. To think of what life was like for Merwyn before he came was painful to him. "No, I can't. Merwyn is a good person, I agree. But... I don't understand why all of this would happen to you. To her. Why were you banished here? What did you do?"

The wolf gave Ruskon a look he could not decipher, and he didn't know if this was because of the limitations of the wolf's inhuman face, or his own ability to understand the complexities of human emotion. "That part of my tale is almost as bad as Merwyn's curse, and the most painful for me to remember. The witch had a daughter, who was good and pure and beautiful. She was everything that her mother was not, and her mother hated all that was good in her. I loved the witch's daughter, she was my wife."

Ruskon gasped at the wolf's shocking revelation. The witch was Merwyn's own grandmother! The wolf grew more and more drawn into the past. His voice sounded far away, and Ruskon knew that there was a great divide between him and the wolf called Edward at that moment. The wolf took a few moments to step back across the divide of time and memory and rejoin Ruskon in the meadow. "I'm sorry, Ruskon. I forgot myself for a moment." Edward's voice had grown husky. Ruskon pretended he didn't notice. "My wife's mother hated me, because I was good. The witch hated anything that was good and true. Anything."

Ruskon knew this all too well. His father had told him how the witch had hated the smell of his pure heart.

"When my wife became pregnant her mother was outraged and wanted to kill the baby. We had to go into hiding, but then... then Moira..." A small sob escaped Edward's monstrous snout. Ruskon didn't know how to go about comforting a wolf, so he stayed still and quiet, hoping that in his silence the wolf would take some sort of solace. "Moira, my beautiful Moira, died. And the witch found Merwyn and me, and she sent us to this place to die. I'm not sure." Edward's voice was slowly becoming more sober, and Ruskon felt more at ease.

"I'm so sorry," Ruskon's words felt choppy on his tongue, and he wondered if he sounded as much a fool as he felt.

"Yes, well, the past is the past. But, there is some hope in all of this. The magic, Ruskon, it's growing weaker. I don't know if it's because you're here now, and the spell that binds us all is breaking, or if the witch is finally dying and so her magic with her. All I know is that escape finally feels possible, Ruskon. My daughter, the last thing left of my Moira, can see the real world. She can know me! I want her to know that I've always loved her, and she's never been alone."

Ruskon felt a knot grow tight in his throat, and tears threatened to spill for Merwyn's fate. He hadn't seen it coming, or known that it was there, but he felt love for the girl who was standing like a statue beside him. The wolf narrowed his eyes at Ruskon as if he was appraising some new knowledge, and Ruskon could tell that Edward knew Ruskon's feelings toward his daughter. Edward nodded softly as if accepting a fact that had been obvious, and the he was only now just seeing.

"Take care of my daughter until we can escape, Ruskon. I'm trusting her with you."

Ruskon felt as if Edward was passing the responsibility of Merwyn's well being to him, and he felt honored. "I will, Edward. I don't know your last name, or else I would address you properly."

The wolf smiled softly. "It seems a bit funny to be addressing me in this form with propriety. But, my surname is Worthing."

"Worthing," Ruskon said reverently.

"Ruskon?"

"Yes?"

"Tell my daughter about me, and about her mother. I want her to know something of me. Will you?"

Ruskon nodded. "I will. Don't worry; I'll take care of her until you can."

Edward shifted on his paws. "No, Ruskon. You'll take care of her always, and I will watch. Like I always have. The time when my daughter was my own has past, and now it's your time."

Ruskon didn't hear any bitterness in the wolf's voice, and before Ruskon could reply, Edward had bounded off across the meadow to be swallowed by the darkness of the forest. Ruskon watched in the distance until even the lightening white of the wolf's coat was beyond sight. Merwyn touched his arm, and he realized that she was out of her trance. "Merwyn," he said her name just to hear it on his tongue, for she seemed entirely new and novel to him.

"What happened, Ruskon? We're in the forest. Something happened." Her voice sounded worried with a hint of panic.

"Merwyn, why don't we go back to the cottage and I'll tell you what I've learned. There's much to tell and I don't want to tell you in this place."

Merwyn's eyes were painted with a look of pure worry and fright. "No. You tell me now. You don't see the look you have on your face. I don't understand it, and I'm afraid! Tell me now what you've learned!" Ruskon tried to grab her arm to settle her, and she tore herself out of his grip. "Tell me!

"Merwyn, calm down!"

She pushed angrily against his chest, and he barely moved. "No! I'm frightened and you're scaring me! I want to know what happened! I have a right to know!"

Ruskon acquiesced. "All right! Merwyn, I saw the wolf. He told me... he told me he was your father."

Merwyn reeled backward looking as if she had been physically wounded. "What?" her voice was thick and wet with grief. She had been expecting Ruskon to say any number of things, but not this. Not that she had a father, and that he was alive and in the forest. She felt a horrible clenching pain in her chest that threatened to explode.

"You have a father Merwyn. He was turned into a wolf when both of you were banished here."

Merwyn shook her head violently as tears fell unbidden from her eyes. "No! No!" Her voice was a piercing scream and Ruskon jilted at the sound. "My father would have come to me! He wouldn't have let me be alone. He wouldn't have!" Her voice was barely audible.

"He does, Merwyn. Every night. But, that's part of your curse; you can't know him until we escape from here."

She sat into the grass, the tall stalks rising above her auburn hair that Ruskon loved. Her eyes were blank and dazed. He  
lowered himself to sit next to her. "I'm alone." Her voice was a ghost rising into the night air only to dissipate a few seconds later.

"No, I'm here with you." He clasped her hands in his. She didn't return the grip. Her hands were limp and clammy in his own.

"Ruskon, where is my mother?"

Ruskon hesitated to answer, in fear of upsetting her more. But, he loved her, so he told her. "She's dead. I'm sorry, Merwyn."

She stared at a distant tree and he wondered what she was thinking. "I knew it. I always have."

He touched his fingers gently to her hair, as if it would break if he touched too fervently. She turned her head toward his palm, and his hand froze in mid-air. "What's my father's name?"

Ruskon smiled. "Edward Worthing. Your mother's name was Moira Worthing."

"I have a last name," she said, and then she began to sob, hard bitter sobs that came from deep inside of her. Ruskon wrapped his arms around her and held her until she was still again. Then he helped her up to her feet and then they walked silently back to the cottage. Words were not needed between them, and Ruskon helped her onto her bed and watched her as she fell asleep.

And he knew that he would love her, always and until he died. She was his responsibility now, her father had given her to him, not in so many words, but Ruskon knew their meaning. He vowed to take good care of her, and then, ever so slightly, he drifted off to sleep. A small smile played across his lips.


	6. Chapter 6: The Phantom

**Author's Note: **Thanks to Anne for correcting this. Please send feedback, it would be much appreciated! Sorry this took so long to get out!

**Chapter 6-**

When Merwyn awoke the next morning, her head ached, and dried, crusted tears from the night before pricked at her eyes. In short, she felt terrible. She sat up gingerly, hoping that the slower she moved, the less her head would ache. She heard a laugh from the opposite corner of the room, and instantly shot a glare in that direction.

"You look wonderful," Ruskon said, with only a trace of sarcasm in his voice.

Merwyn groaned at the sound of his voice, and that sent another chuckle from Ruskon. Merwyn sighed heavily and sank back into the bed, letting her arms flail up over her head. Ruskon walked softly over to the bed, and looked down at Merwyn. Her eyes were clenched shut, and her mouth was turned down at a strange angle. "Do you want to talk about what happened last night?"

Merwyn grunted in frustration. "Talking about it doesn't change anything. I still can't see my father."

Ruskon lightly touched the back of her hand with his fingertips; her skin was warm and soft. "You have seen him, Merwyn. He told me you've fed him. That you touched him."

Tears formed in the corners of Merwyn's eyes, washing away the dried ones that had been bothering her. "That was him? The white wolf?" She sounded touched and surprised, instead of agonized. Ruskon nodded. She smiled wistfully. "He was beautiful."

"Yes, he was," Ruskon, said.

"At least I know that he was always near. I've seen that wolf many a time. He cared, Ruskon. Somebody cared." Ruskon look into her eyes and smiled. "What's my Father like, Ruskon? What was his voice like? Was he gentle? Kind?"

Ruskon shook his head in amusement. "Hold off the interrogation! Let me, think…" He pretended not to remember, and Merwyn smacked his arm in mock anger.

"Tell me, Ruskon! You don't want to see me angry!"

He laughed. "I think I've seen all I want to see of that last night."

Her laughter stopped short, and he remembered the seriousness of the events last night. "I'm sorry," he muttered.

"It's okay." She sighed in resolution. "I don't always want there to be this thing between us. I don't want you to feel like you have to say sorry all the time, and watch your words. I'm not an egg that will break when squeezed, Ruskon. So, don't worry about me, okay?" She smiled at him, showing her white teeth. Ruskon watched the way her eyes crinkled in the corners when she smiled, and he loved her more.

"Your father has a very kind voice. It was rich and old, and wise. I've never heard anything like it. I liked him, very much. He has the power to know what people are feeling, it's a little disconcerting at first." He chuckled at the memory.

Merwyn was rapt, listening to Ruskon recount details about her father. "What else?" she eagerly asked.

"Well, I didn't talk to him for very long, Merwyn. But, I could tell from the way he talked about her, that he loved your mother very much. He said that she was beautiful and kind, just like you."

"He said that?" Her voice was filled with wonderment.

Ruskon looked away from her for a second. He knew how much she needed to know that her father loved her and that she was wanted. Even if that meant fabricating some of the details, at least he knew that even though her father did not say these things, he would have, given the chance. "Yes. He did."

Merwyn threw her arms around Ruskon, and pulled him to her, squeezing him tightly. His face was plastered with a look of surprise and pleasure. "I'm so happy you're here, Ruskon. If you weren't here, I would never know. Never."

"Well, all of this, and I haven't even told you all of the good news."

Merwyn pulled back to look Ruskon in the eyes. "Good news?"

"Wonderful news! Your father told me that he could feel the magic that is keeping us here weakening! We can escape!"

Merwyn jumped to her feet, her jaw dropped in shock! "Are you serious! Is this true?" Ruskon grinned wildly in confirmation. She sputtered out a half-crazed laugh, and began to jump up and down! "I can't believe it! I can't believe it! I didn't dare to hope!"

Ruskon joined her on his feet, and grabbed her hands and together they twirled around the room, dancing as if they never wanted to stop. Merwyn fell exhaustedly to the floor, her hair matted to her forehead with sweat. "I don't think, ever in my life, I have felt _this_ good!"

He gazed at her tenderly. "Me either."

She paused and searched his eyes, as if she was seeing something that wasn't there before. "Ruskon?"

He leaned forward without answering her, and touched his lips to hers. It was a chaste kiss, born out of impulse, and he pulled away quickly. He saw her face, which was frozen in astonishment.

"That… what was that called?" Her voice was shaky and it sounded as if her words were caught in her throat. She gulped.

"A kiss. I…I don't know what to say. I wanted to. I probably should have asked your permission, it's just that you looked so… pretty with the light on your face like that."

She smiled self-consciously. "What does a kiss mean?"

He bit his lip. Better to confess now, he thought. "It is a promise. From me to you."

She raised an eyebrow. "A promise?"

"Yes," he said a bit more confidently. "It means that I will always take care of you… that I will love you."

She sat silently staring at him, and he wanted to throw up in fear of what she would say to him. "Always? You could promise me that long?" She smiled at him teasingly.

The pressure in his chest lightened a bit, and he grinned at her half-convincingly. "I could."

Merwyn nodded in acceptance of his offer, and then she leaned forward and pressed her lips softly against his. Then she pulled back to look him square in the eyes. "Then I promise too." She beamed brightly at him, and then set her head on his shoulder. He brought a hand unsteadily up to touch her hair, and they sat there in silence for sometime.

----------

Ruskon must have fallen asleep and not known it, because he was awakened by the sound of something tapping ominously against the windowpane. He opened his eyes, allowing only a small slit of light to come through. He saw a dark shadow that looked like a hand raking against the glass. He glanced toward Merwyn to see if she was still beside him; she was asleep on the floor, curled into fetal position. He shot up quickly, jumping to his feet.

The fingers slid across the glass and then disappeared from sight. Ruskon tried to calm himself down. Maybe it was just another person that was banished here. Maybe it was nothing to worry about. He could hear his breath in his ears as he walked toward the front door, and his muscles were tense. His fingers quivered as they reached out for the doorknob, and he heard a loud, slapping bang against the window and he jumped in fright. Merwyn groggily lifted her head to search for Ruskon. "What was that?" she questioned, her voice cracking in places from lack of use.

"Nothing," he whispered to her, trying to lull her back into sleep. He didn't want to alarm her in case the noises turned out to be nothing. "I just dropped a book."

She nodded sleepily and laid her head back down, going back into the curled up position. Ruskon stalked toward the door, cautious of what might be lurking outside to meet him.

The door opened with a slight groan, announcing Ruskon's presence to whatever was outside. He froze momentarily, eyes searching in the darkness for shadows that moved. He heard an eerie laugh that trickled into the air like slow falling rain. His breath caught in his throat, and he could hear his heart thumping against the walls of his chest. He instinctively turned to meet the sound, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw a fleeting shadow. Ruskon felt drawn to follow the shadow; his feet moved quickly beneath him. His will was not his own, and he walked like one possessed further into the darkness after the phantom.

Ruskon watched like a prisoner from the windows of his eyes as he followed helplessly after the shadowy, cloaked figure that moved like a waif. He felt as if his limbs were bound in an invisible vise and they moved independent of his body. Ruskon could see that he was approaching a clearing between the trees, and there was a dark enclosure buried into a side of a hill that looked like a cave. He became more frightened that he had no control of his will, and he struggled senselessly against the invisible chains that were dragging him toward the dank looking cave. It was no use, and his feet thudded heavily toward the entrance, and little by little, the darkness enveloped him and the world that he had known before was gone.

-----------

Merwyn sat up suddenly as if the breath had been knocked out of her chest. She felt like she couldn't breathe, and she clasped her hands against her tightened throat in an attempt to relieve the feeling. Something was wrong; she could feel it in her insides. Her eyes searched the small cottage, and seeing it empty, she shakily walked to the front door. Her hand pushed against the doorjamb for support to stand, for she felt so unexplainably weak. Her eyes darted quickly into the depths of the forest, and it was so dark. She prayed that Ruskon had not ventured in by himself. "Ruskon!" She called hoarsely. There was no answer, and she didn't understand why, but she was beginning to feel panicked. "Ruskon! Answer me! This isn't funny!" She pressed harder against the doorjamb, as she began to slide helplessly to her knees. Her fists clenched into balls as red spots blurred her vision. She fell to a slump on the ground as her vision anticlimactically went black. And then there was nothingness.

-----------

Ruskon's willed his eyes to close to the horror of what was happening to him, but he couldn't. Suddenly, his legs stopped moving, and he was surrounded by darkness so thick, that he couldn't see his hands in front of him. He heard a strange rustling in the darkness and feared that it was the phantom, coming nearer to him. He held his breath in his throat, as if it would save him from the coming terror. There was a hand on his cheek, and he whimpered softly as yellowed eyes peered at him from the beneath the blackness and he was powerless to stop it all. "Hello, Ruskon of Brighton," the cracked voice said. It was hard and menacing and Ruskon wanted to shy away from it. But, his feet remained planted in one place.

Ruskon's breath came out in shallow pulses and he could see white teeth flashing in an ominous grin.

"Don't you recognize me, Ruskon? You've been plotting to destroy me. I thought that you should at least know my face.

Ruskon shook his head forcibly, as if to banish the phantom's presence. It remained stolid in front of him and he clenched his teeth.

"I'm the witch."


	7. Chapter 7: The Curse

**

* * *

Author's Note:** _Thanks to all who reviewed. I hope you enjoy. Thanks once again to Anne, probably the best beta ever. If not, she's at least in the top ten. Any mistakes that you see are probably my fault._

* * *

**Chapter 7**

Ruskon had no recollection of closing his eyes, but when he opened them, he was once again met with the impenetrable blackness of the cave. The air was thick, wet, and it enveloped him inside of its dark embrace, making him want to grit his teeth. Ruskon felt as if the blackness was a pair hands, and that they were running over his skin. He cringed involuntarily.

The Witch stared intently at him, her eyes coal black in the darkness. "Don't you remember me Ruskon? Why didn't you tell Merwyn that you had met me before?"

Ruskon shook his head. "I didn't want her to know. That her own grandmother could do such things to her!"

She laughed, a piercing sound in the otherwise dense silence. "Yes, I believe when I saw you last, I was beautiful, wasn't I? I made you fall in love with me." Her voice was sickeningly sweet. "You were so easy, Ruskon. I just had to look at you with my pretty face, and you loved me. No questions asked. Such innocence, are you still that innocent, my Ruskon?" She peered inquiringly into his eyes, and he stared blankly forward, oblivious to her scrutinizing gaze. "No," she said after a while, "I don't believe you are. Pity."

"It wasn't real! None of it was real! I never loved you! Never!"

She smiled at him, a cruel smile that one gives just before they are going to do something truly heinous, and Ruskon had heard the underlying menace in her voice, and it was all he had within him that kept him from shaking at the thought of what her power could do to him. She had already banished him from the only world he ever knew, what else could she do to him? Ruskon needed courage now more than he ever had, and he prayed that he would have it.

"I've been watching you, Ruskon. You and the girl. I know what you've been planning. Escape." She said the word with such a disgust painted in her voice that she made it sound if the word were a curse. "Did you not think that I would ensure that you would be here forever? I want you to suffer, and suffer you will." Her voice rose to a high shrill, and then there was silence.

An ice cold hand reached out to caress Ruskon's skin, and he winced at the feel of her touch. "Don't you ever touch me!" Ruskon said through clenched teeth. Ruskon struggled to see her reaction, but he was blind in the cave. His senses were brought to a rude awakening, when he felt a hot, searing pain streak across his cheek. It was her fingernails raking down his flesh, causing red trails to appear in the wake of her violent strike.

"I want you to stay in this forest forever, Ruskon! I want you to suffer!" Her voice was a hysterical scream, and he could feel her hot breath on his face. "I know your fears, Ruskon. You are afraid to be alone, but with Merwyn you aren't alone. That was a mistake on my part, granted. And so, it seems, I must separate you. Forever." She whispered now, as if she had made a great decision, and the peace of the choice so freshly made had settled on her like a protective shroud. "I curse you once more. I curse you to a lifetime of loneliness and wandering, may you never find rest! May you never know peace." Her voice was steady and cool, and he could feel her power radiating toward in him in sickening waves.

Ruskon's stomach clenched in agony. Merwyn would be alone once more, that was as much as he knew. Would that half-crazed, wild look dawn on her again when she was once more ensconced in solitude? When he had met her, she had barely been holding onto the last threads of her sanity, and without him there to protect her, would those threads unravel?

He felt despair such as words cannot express the depth or the width of, and he closed his eyes as the Witch rose her bony hand. A bright light pierced his eyelids, causing him to squeeze them tightly together to block out the intensity, and then a searing pain ran through his body like an electric shock.

Then nothingness.

Ruskon opened his eyes, and the world was different. He looked toward the ground and saw that he had paws, and a grey fur the color of fog on the moors covered his body. He mournfully raised his eyes, and the Witch was still and calm before him. A deep sadness was tinged in her eyes, and she raised her hand to feel his soft fur coat. "Yes Ruskon, you are a wolf. There's nothing left for you now." She gave him a small smile that only touched the corners of her mouth. "Be gone from me," she whispered, barely audible, and she waved her hand in a flippant manner.

Ruskon closed his eyes and he was transported vast distances to the thick of the forest. The trees of the wood cast dark shadows that played upon the forest floor, and Ruskon padded along it with a grace that a human observer would admire as something truly beautiful. When he had been a human, the wood was a sinister and terrifying place, and he knew that if he had wandered out into its depths, he would have died, been swallowed into the emptiness of the never-ending trees, and ferns. But now, he knew the wood's every curve, he knew every tree by name and its history. There were no secrets anymore, just bark and leaves and earth.

Ruskon snorted softly. He felt so ancient. The world that had held so many secrets and wonders was now devoid of mystery. For in his ancientness, he knew the history and the future of the world, and knew that it would never change. It would continue to spin on its axis, until the day when it would be destroyed in fire and water. Everything must end, Ruskon thought, and so must the world. He wanted to fade away and dissolve like sugar in water; the Witch did know his deepest fears. The thought of being alone terrified him to his very core, and though he would not have continued for his own sake, he had to continue for Merwyn's. She needed him, and he could admit that. He wanted to be needed. He could not let her drift into madness. He couldn't. But, then again, there was not really much he could do in his present form, for as a wolf, Merwyn could not know him.

Ever.

She could never see him as he truly was, and he could never touch her, or take comfort in her voice. He strolled through the forest, until he tired of walking, and then he lay despondently underneath a large tree with an umbrella-like canopy. And a deep sadness descended upon him like night descends upon day, washing the light away until a purple darkness is all that is left.

He wept.

* * *

Merwyn's eyes snapped open, and she shot up to her feet forcefully. The sinking feeling was still heavy in her stomach, and she tried to breathe short, hard breaths in order to banish the sense. It didn't leave her. She gulped. Ruskon was still gone, and she was alone in the cottage. 

The sun sunk ominously behind the trees, and Merwyn had the distinct feeling that it would never rise again. "Stop being silly." She told herself as if she were a small child that needed direction. "Ruskon will be back. He'll come back. He wouldn't leave me here alone." She wrapped her arms tightly around her body, trying to hold in a sense of security. But, there was nothing but restlessness hanging in her limbs and she had to move around. She idly rearranged furniture in the cottage, while continually looking out the window, always searching, eyes roving, looking for the thing that was lost.

She did not find him. The cottage grew colder, and she stared blankly into the fireplace, expecting it to light up any minute. It never did. This worried her too, the food that always appeared every night at the same time, didn't materialize. Something was wrong. Necessity dictated that she find some wood to warm the cottage, and she was forced to gather sticks, and tinder to start a fire. She using a flint rock to start the fire, and sat back as the flame spread like a blanket across the wood, covering it in a blue-orange haze.

She was too tired to move, to find food for herself, but she knew that eventually she would have to do it. But, she didn't want to leave in case Ruskon came back, and found her gone, and then he would leave again to search for her. No, she would not leave the cottage tonight, but she would sit by the fire and wait. Yes, wait. That was what she must do.

Ruskon would come back and she would wait for him.

* * *

Ruskon stood to his paws, and listened intently. There was a rustling in the trees and it was coming nearer to him. If it was a foe, he must be prepared to fight. If not, he still wanted to be ready. The hairs on his back stood on end, and he noticed absent-mindedly that he was on the tips of his paws. 

The rustling in the trees continued, and the moonlight came through the thick canopy of the threes in scattered beams that unevenly illuminated the forest floor. Ruskon peered ever more intently into the forest, wondering what could be moving in the bushes.

He got an answer in the form of Edward, white coat brilliant even in the shadowy forest. Ruskon's heart lightened, he at least could take comfort in the fact that someone shared his fate. He was not truly alone, no matter what the Witch wanted.

Edward gazed at Ruskon with curious eyes, and cocked his head slightly to the side in questioning. "Ruskon? Is that you?"

Ruskon cast his eyes ashamedly to the ground, before looking up and meeting Edward's eyes. "Yes. It is. I have failed; there is no one to care for Merwyn now. I am cursed."

Edward gave a low moan, and Ruskon wasn't sure if the moan was for him or for Merwyn. "I'm sorry, Ruskon. I hoped you would never have to experience this."

Ruskon turned his great head away from Edward so that he could put on the façade of composure. Edward waited patiently.

"Does Merwyn know? That you are… like this?"

Ruskon shook his head in response. Edward nodded thoughtfully to himself. "I don't even know if I can see her."

"I will tell her."

Ruskon opened his eyes wide, incredulous. "How?! She can't know either of us in this form, and you can't truly talk to her. Not in a way that she'll remember."

"She will remember, somehow. Do you want to come with me… to tell her?"

Ruskon paused. "No. I don't want her to see me like this."

Edward raised the corner of his mouth in what Ruskon thought was the wolf-version of a grimace. "Understandable. But, Ruskon, we cannot leave you like this! There has to be a reason why I felt a shift in the magic! There has to be! Something was happening on the outside world. I felt the Witch grow weak!"

Ruskon thought back to the Witch looking at him with sorrowful eyes. "I think she is too. But, I don't know why. She looked at me with a sadness that I barely believed could come from such a monster."

Edward seemed to be thinking intently. "I don't know either. We will have to figure it out somehow; your life depends on it as well as Merwyn's."

Ruskon nodded. "Don't forget yours too, Edward."

Edward shrugged as much as a wolf is able, and shook his head. "I thought you knew, Ruskon. My life no longer matters to me. I care only for Merwyn. My life can be forfeit."

Ruskon felt a shot of panic in his chest. "What are you saying, Edward?"

Edward smiled softly, his savage teeth bared, but in a way that made him seem tender. "Nothing, Ruskon. I'm not saying anything."

Ruskon's chest lightened a little, "You go talk to Merwyn, and I will think of all that I know about the Witch. Something is happening, you are right, and to solve this we must put all of what we know together."

Edward tossed Ruskon a goodbye nod of the head, and then bounded off once more into the thick of the forest. Ruskon wanted to dance around with joy at the thought that he could be free of this curse, this heavy burden on his soul that was siphoning out every ounce of life in him. Instead, Ruskon did what came natural to all wolf-kind, he threw back his head and let out a long, moaning howl that echoed across the vastness of the wood in an eerie pulse, until satiated, he was silent.

* * *

Merwyn sat in front of the fire, her eyes aglow with orange red light. She had felt nervous, because at every sound she would jump to her feet and open the door, hoping that it was Ruskon every time, but now, she was silent and still. 

Waiting.

She heard scratching noises at the front door, and thinking she had imagined them, she'd stayed in one place, but the noises persisted and Merwyn could ignore them no longer. She got to her feet and slowly advanced toward the door. The floorboards creaked ominously under her feet, but she continued to walk.

Her heart beat thunderously in her chest, and she both at once wanted to fling the door open and be greeted with whatever it was that behind it, and she wanted to cower in the corner lest opening the door reveal some long-held nightmare.

Her hand trembled slightly above the doorknob, and she gave a half-nervous laugh. "Coward," she admonished herself, and continued to turn the knob, which was cool underneath her palm.

She was met with the cool night air, and an unsettling view of the forest. But, there was nothing at the door, and she had once again been duped by her own imagination and desire for something to be at the door, anything.

But, as she stared out into the wood, she felt a familiar tugging at her insides. Almost as if someone was calling her name from a great distance, and she could only hear a voice and not make out distinct words. Her body was completely still, every inch of her listening to the call that was bidding her to go into the forest.

Something inside of her clicked, and the rational mind shut down, and she was working completely off instinct. She began to run, and the night air ran cool through her lungs, making her breathing painful, but she continued to run. Her muscles were pumping, lithe and strong, sweat rolled down her skin, and some distant part of her enjoyed the race. The feel of going and not knowing where the journey would end.

She hadn't realized how completely disconnected from herself she felt, she felt like she was watching the landscape moving by in flashes of green and black and that she was somewhere else, watching all of this happen from a great distance.

But she continued to run until she reached a clearing, with tall grass that ran up to her hips; she could feel it whipping unpleasantly against her skin, in some places small lacerations formed as a result of her exertion.

She was inexplicably compelled to stop. The call that she had felt when she first looked outside into the forest was beginning to wane, but she still felt as if she was watching everything from somewhere above herself. She was an observer and not a participant. Merwyn's head turned independent of her consciousness, and by the light of the full moon she could see a brilliant white wolf descend upon the meadow. Its steps were leisurely and majestic and it walked agonizingly slow toward her, as if time were simply a luxury that could be wasted, for it never ran out. Her head cocked to one side as if she was listening to a very quiet sound, and her hair fell in silky waves across her shoulders and back.

The wolf stopped in front of her, and she hadn't realized how immensely huge it was. Its paws were the size of her hands; its huge head was elegantly covered in a fur whiter than any other white she had ever seen. Its eyes were hazel and gentle, and the Merwyn that was detached from her body and observing the scene wanted to stare into those eyes, for they told a story that she seemed to know the words to. She recognized something of herself in those eyes.

Merwyn noticed that she was not afraid of this wolf, her body was a stolid presence in front of the beast and she felt herself draw to her knees. Her eyes were on a direct level with the wolf's. Her mouth opened and words formed independent of her will. "Father, I feel you have a great burden upon you." Her slender hand reached affectionately toward the wolf, and touched its soft fur. Merwyn vaguely recalled that the word father was a dear word, and that word was important to her somehow. But, she could not seem to place it, for her mind felt foggy.

"Yes, my daughter. I do have something to tell you, but my heart does grieve at the notion of sharing my burden with you."

She felt herself wrap her arms around the wolf in a protective embrace. "Tell me, and I will keep you safe."

The wolf was silent, and Merwyn could not see its face from the vantage point she was at. Her head was nestled on the shoulder of the wolf, and the fur lined against her skin in a pleasant fashion. She wanted to stay there forever.

"Ruskon, the boy that was banished into the forest with you has been cursed by the Witch. He is no longer a human, but a beast."

Merwyn felt her breath catch in her throat, and in the half-light of remembrance she recalled that Ruskon was someone that she knew, and that she had cared for, and now she could not see him for he was barred from her.

She wanted to cry out, but her body and her will were not her own, and she stayed still, her arms still wrapped protectively around the wolf's body.

"Do you understand me, Merwyn? Do you know what I am talking about?" Edward evenly asked.

Merwyn's head nodded against his shoulder and he closed his eyes in supplication. He wanted to be a human, a man with arms and legs, so that he could hold his daughter. But dared not even hope for such a thing, so he stayed still and basked in the feel of her touch against his skin.

Merwyn raised her head to meet his eyes, and she stared at him with an intensity that made him want to avert his gaze, even though he knew that she was not consciously aware of her actions. "Father, why has this happened to me? Am I never to know happiness?"

Edward's breath left his chest, and he stared at his daughter with a mix of sorrow and bewilderment. "I know not, Daughter. I know not."

Merwyn gave her father a questioning gaze and after peering into his eyes, she saw that he no concrete answers. She smiled wearily and let her palm graze against the side of his face, and she noticed that he closed his eyes for a split second as if trying to savor the feel of her. She stood to her feet. "Who is to save us?" she said almost as an after thought.

Edward backed slightly away from her, and he felt an urgent need to run. To break free into open space and shake off the shackles of tribulation. But, he did not. He calmly answered Merwyn instead. "You must save yourself Merwyn, for no one can do it for you. Remember in your mind and your heart all that I have told you today, so that you may plan your own salvation. Do whatever it takes to escape from here, Merwyn! Whatever it takes. I will call you again, when the time is right. Be always ready and I will find you once more. Go in peace, my daughter."

Merwyn looked at him one last time before she turned and ran back through the forest. Her legs urgently pumping, carrying her with a supernatural speed through the darkened wood. At least she reached the cottage, its small homely shape a beacon in the darkness, and she stopped before the front door.

Her hand pressed hard up against the rough grain of the wood, and she gently pushed her forehead to the door. "Ruskon," she whispered. Her rational mind once more restored, she felt his name run through her brain like a chant. He was gone. That much she remembered. He was gone and she must escape.

A deep sigh escaped her lips, but she refused to let a tear fall from her eyes. She had cried enough for one lifetime. Enough even to mourn Ruskon, for she knew now that she would never see him again. The thought of being alone again frightened her, it was as if she was looking into a deep abyss and she must throw herself in, to be caught up in the depths of it. But, she had been alone for all her life, and the reprieve that Ruskon had brought her was enough to last her until she could be free of this place.

Merwyn knew herself above all things, and she knew that she was strong, and although she may not want to, she knew that she must keep on living. Fighting. Merwyn was never the kind to accept defeat, and she would not do it know.

She brought her hand to the knob of the door and opened it. She walked into the cottage with measured steps, and she felt as if a heavy weight rested upon her chest. A weight of grief. "Let this be the last time," she said to herself. The last time that she had to be alone, the last time that she had to see the wood. The last time for too many things to count.

Merwyn looked at the vacant floor beside her bed, and thought that Ruskon would never lie there again. "Let this be the last time," she repeated to the empty cottage, and she lay down and wrapped herself in her blanket.


	8. Chapter 8: The Reckoning

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**Author's Notes:** Sad to say, but Merwyn is coming to an end! I'm almost finished with the last chapter, and then it will be over! Sigh! Please read and review (I wouldn't mind hearing a little good news... or bad news?). Thanks again to Anne for editing, you're the best! Happy reading!

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**Chapter 8**

Merwyn did not sleep that night. The wind howled angrily against the cottage window panes, as if it too was mourning something lost. She stared up at the ceiling, her eyes unblinking, and sleep failed to take her. Thoughts raced menacingly through her mind, and each one passed by too quickly to decipher and she felt a nagging ache deep inside of her that would not dissipate. Merwyn pressed a hand tight to her stomach, in a desperate attempt to make the incessant churning cease.

It did not.

She knew had to do something, anything to escape, and that thought alone troubled her beyond the telling. But, she had no idea where to start. Much of what she knew about her curse, she knew from what Ruskon had told her and that wasn't much. They were scant details, and unsure hunches.

Ruskon.

His name felt like a forbidden word in her mind, and she tried everything that she could not to think of him for five minutes, for five seconds. Nothing worked, and he too troubled her thoughts. She sighed heavily, and closed her eyes for a few fretful seconds, and then opened them, and let them stare unblinking at the ceiling.

Merwyn shifted restlessly on the bed. She turned her head to glance at the other side of the room, and her eyes roamed absently until they rested upon the stack of books by the armchair. Merwyn shot into upright position. She felt like she was remembering something long since forgotten, and in the back of her memory, she heard Ruskon's voice clear and steady, _'I don't know why, but always within spells are the key to its undoing.'_ Yes, that was what she was remembering! Ruskon had believed that within their curse, was the key to break it. The key to escape! Merwyn looked at the books, and it all seemed so clear. How had she ever been so blind? The truth was in front of her face the entire time and she never saw it.

There was one book amongst the rest that was a bit different. Not only in its binding, but also in its story. The other books were adventure stories, stories of pirates and treasure. But the one tale was a slow and melodious account of a lonely cursed girl. It seemed so blatantly obvious now. She ran over to the arm chair and fell to her knees next to the stack of books; she sifted wildly through them until she came to the book that she had been searching for.

It was old, that much she knew. It was bound in green leather, and on the cover was the image of a woman, staring forlornly into a garden, sheathed with red roses. Merwyn opened the cover, and the spine crackled slightly from disuse. The pages were yellowed around the edges, and slightly crumbling. She remembered the story, she had read it many times, and liked it, but it was not the story that seemed to reverberate through her mind at the moment. There was a passage, a small riddle that was in the book, and it had never meant anything to Merwyn, but she had always thought it was an oddity, for it did not really fit with the story.

She flipped rapidly through the pages, and each page that flicked by sent a renewed scent of decayed paper to her nostrils. She finally came to the page with the mysterious riddle, and looked at it as if she had never seen it before. Her hands trembled slightly as she held the open book in her hands; for this she had waited ten years. The poem could very well be the key to her escape, the key to her salvation. The book was a comforting weight in her hands, and she laughed half-hysterically. The sound was frightening to her ears, and she pressed her palm against her mouth, to stop the noise.

Merwyn took a deep breath, which did not completely satisfy her need for air, and she stared down at the page and tried to decipher the meaning of the strange poem.

_For solitude shall overtake you, until you begin to rejoice in darkness. You will be separate from the rest of civilization until the light dawns upon you._

_For in your solitude, you will find solace. Another will come to help you break free of the prison that binds you. But you will suffer many tribulations before you can be free of your imprisonment, and you must defeat the curse that has blinded you in order to see the truth of freedom. _

_There must be a great sacrifice from a willing party, for blind love is redeeming and breaks all bonds of hate._

_Seek him who loves you most, and you will be set free._

_But alas, be forewarned, freedom is a great price indeed, and for what you seek you shall pay dearly._

Merwyn looked down at the page with disdain. "What?!" Pay dearly? Had she not paid dearly enough many times over? Merwyn ripped the page out of the book, with an angry tear, and discarded the book with a livid throw against the wall. It made a satisfying thud as it hit the floor. The page lay crumpled in her hand, and she scarcely realized that she had been trembling, with anger or fear, she was not quite sure. Defeat the curse that had kept her blind? She didn't even know if that was possible. Was just willing something to happen enough to make it so? She did not think so.

She clenched her jaw, and remained on the floor with her legs folded beneath her. She gazed steadily into the fire, her eyes transfixed on the orange-red flames, and it seemed to her that the blaze was a reflection of her emotions. This was not fair! But, then again, when had life ever been fair? In a moment of frivolousness, she tossed the poem into the fire, and watched in satisfaction as the flames licked and crackled against the paper, disintegrating the page until it was nothing but ash.

She stood resolutely to her feet and began to pace the floor; the wood creaked under her determined step. "Find the one who loves me most?!" she shouted aloud, and her voice sounded hoarse and cracked to her ears. Ruskon? Could it be Ruskon who loved her the most? She shook the fear of that question away. The words sacrifice and Ruskon did not settle well in her psyche.

She stared out of the window just as the morning sun had begun to rise over the tops of the trees, awakening the forest with its gentle fingers. She walked out of the cottage as one who walks through water, each step slow and weighted. The cool morning breeze danced lightly over her skin, and she closed her eyes briefly and it was as if a spell had come over her. All the doubt and worry that she had felt only moments ago, had slipped away, and all that was left in the world was her and the rising sun.

She opened her eyes, and saw in the distance as if the glittering of a coin, and she narrowed her eyes in order to see it better. "What is that?" she said audibly, and she ambled toward the glowing light. Merwyn felt as if time were drawing to a standstill, and that she would be caught up along with it if she did not keep moving. As she neared the light, it grew more intense and seemed to pulsate with life.

Her heartbeat and breathing slowed, until her breath came out in shallow pulses that rang in her ears. She felt an otherworldly calm settle upon her, as if she were floating gently above the ground in a fluid motion instead of walking. When at last she reached the source of the shining light, the sun had fully risen, and she had been traveling for several hours. She stared disbelievingly in front of her. She was standing in front of a large pool of water, surrounded completely by trees. Merwyn had never seen this lake before, and she had wandered the forest over vast distances during her banishment. She had thought that she knew all the places in the wood. From beneath the water, she could see rocks the color of gold sparkling softly. She bent down and peered deeper into the water, and could see flakes of gold scattered across the bottom of the pool.

She heard a shuffling noise beside her, and she quickly raised her head to see what it was. There was an enormous white wolf standing still beside her, and beside it, there was another wolf, but this one was grey and less refined than the other. It had a feral look to it that showed in the rough appearance of its grey coat, and its stance. Everything about the wolf was untamed but its eyes. They too were grey, but a deeper, richer color than that of its fir, they were the color of a dark fog rolling over water.

The grey wolf looked stricken, if that is possible for an animal, and something in the back of her mind recognized the white coat of the other wolf. Its fur reminded her of lightening, and for some reason, a field in the midst of night. She stared curiously at these two creatures, and it did not strike her to be afraid of them at all.

The white wolf made a sideways glance at the grey one, and the grey one backed away from Merwyn as if it were afraid of her. The large white wolf stepped forward, its paws making a soft plodding sound on the dry earth that Merwyn thought oddly comforting. Merwyn felt her breath catch in her throat, and she reached out a hand to touch the thick fur of the white wolf. "I know you," she said softly, and the wolf did not flinch from her touch.

The wolf nodded.

"But how?" Her voice was barely audible.

"I cannot tell you. But, you do know me. I can only confirm what you already know, it is part of your curse. I am sorry."

And it did not seem strange to Merwyn that this wolf could talk, because somewhere inside of her she knew that it could. She tried to think back to how she knew this wolf, and the answer eluded her. "I can't remember. But it seems as if I met you before. Not here. No, not here. I don't know why, but I keep remembering a meadow, and moonlight."

The white wolf's eyes grew wet, and they sparkled gently with tears, but none fell down his face, and he quickly blinked them away. He never thought that she would remember him, even in the smallest measurement. "Yes, that is where you know me from, dearest."

Merwyn cocked her head to the side and examined the wolf with a scrutinizing eye, and she thought nothing unusual about his use of endearment. "My mind fails me. Will you at least tell me your name?"

The wolf lifted up the corner of his mouth, and his white teeth flashed for a brief moment, and then they were gone again, as he lowered his lip. He hesitated for a moment more, before he answered. "Edward. My name is Edward."

Merwyn racked her brain for a figment, a piece of something that would connect the dots for her, that would tell her how she knew this wolf, and why she felt so close to him. The gray wolf looked at her again for the first time since backing away from her; he gazed at her with a deep sadness that she didn't understand. But his dark gray eyes seemed so familiar to her that she was momentarily taken aback. "I know you too, don't I?"

The gray wolf looked startled, and he shot a look at Edward before backing completely away and darting off into the forest until he was completely out of sight. Merwyn looked away from the thick wood and back down to Edward, and gave him a questioning look.

"Yes, dearest. You are right. That wolf does know you and you him."

Her mouth fell open. "I didn't say anything! How did you know what I was thinking?"

Edward looked pensive, as if he was wondering how he should reveal his answer. After a moment, he answered. "Because, I know your heart, for it mirrors my own."

"Edward, I feel…" The words seemed to elude her. "I feel as if I have known you all my life. And that possibly… possibly… I have loved you that long as well." She looked slightly embarrassed at the admission, but Edward looked steadily on at her, his eyes softened a bit, and grew tender. "I don't know what that means. How can I love you? I have never met you? And, well—meaning no disrespect, you are a wolf."

Edward chuckled softly, the sound deep and rich. He cast a gaze briefly at the ground before looking up and meeting her eyes. "I can't tell you everything, dearest. But, it gives me hope such as I have never known to see you here before me, when I have not called out to you. And, you have never seen this golden lake before, am I right?"

Merwyn nodded slowly. "What does that mean?"

Edward grimaced. "I do so want to tell you. But, I can't. My mouth is sealed against my will. Merwyn, you are smart. Remember, even when your mind tells you that it cannot. Fight it! Remember! For the answer to all of this, to your curse," he glanced away from her, and whispered barely loud enough for her to hear, "and mine, to everything is inside of you! But you just have to remember!"

Merwyn shivered. None of this made sense to her. None of it. "Remember." She let the word roll off of her tongue and float into the air. "Edward, who was that wolf?"

Edward desperately wished that he was a man, and it was not the first time. It was a deep longing within him that he could not contain, no matter how much time had passed. He could envision in his mind his arms, and his hands with their long slender fingers. He used to play the piano, his fingers danced across the keys with a subtle grace that his wife had loved. Damn this curse that kept him a prisoner of his own body, his own mind, so that every word was a hindrance on his tongue and he could never say what he truly felt.

"That's not my secret to reveal, dear one. He needs to tell you on his own."

Merwyn was not discouraged; instead, she looked at Edward with a keen interest. "My curse, this place, that wolf, you—they are all connected aren't they?"

Edward gave no sign of what he thought, hoping his beastly exterior would guard his eyes from giving away his emotion. She was going to discover the answer to all of it, everything, and the curse would be broken. All of this would be over sooner than he could imagine. Edward caught himself daydreaming about what his daughter would think of him when she saw him as he truly was—a human, her father. Would she see something of herself in him? Would she want to know all about herself as a child? The small idiosyncrasies that develop when one is young, and last until the day they die.

Then a small, slow fear crept into his chest, and he wondered if he would even know how to be human any longer. He had been a wolf for ten long years, but it felt infinitely longer. Would he know how to be a man once more? Or would the beast still live on, even after the curse ended?

Merwyn seemed distracted and Edward shook himself out of his reverie. "What is it?" he asked.

Merwyn shot him an abstracted look. "This is the beginning of the end, I can feel it." She met his eyes, "I read a riddle this morning. No, it was more than that. It was the key, the guide to figuring out how to break the curse. It said that true loves breaks all bonds of hate, and that for this curse, my curse—" She stopped suddenly and examined him with a deeply scrutinizing stare. "It's your curse too, isn't it?"

Edward could hide his emotion no longer, and a feral sob escaped his throat. To Merwyn's ears it sounded like an angry roar and she instinctively took a step backward. For so long he had wished that his daughter would look at him and call him Father, and not be under the influence of a spell, and the hope that was beginning to thrive within him was almost too much to bear. He got control of his emotions once more, and then softly apologized to Merwyn for scaring her.

Merwyn's hair shone a dark auburn in the sunlight with flecks of gold that sparkled softly. She looked at the wolf standing before her with its teeth slightly bared and she knew that all of this had to be solved today. Today the curse would end. Merwyn felt as if the blood was humming in her veins, and her heart sounded if it was beating audibly in her chest. The momentousness of the occasion did not seem to be lost on the wolf either, for he was on edge with his entire being. His fur stood on end, and his muscles were visibly tensed.

She desperately wanted to sit down, to run and to scream all at once, but she decided the most judicious action would be to sit down, and gain some control over her thoughts and the situation. All the unanswered questions were a barrier between her and Edward, and this place she was in was a great mystery to her too. How did she get here? How come she had never seen it before?

"What is this place, Edward?"

Edward smirked. "That I _can_ tell you. You said that you thought your curse was my curse also, that's true. This place is where I have been banished. You were banished into the enchanted forest, and I… I have been sent here. I am forced to stay here until the sun sets, and then I am free to roam the wood until again the sun dawns."

Merwyn nodded thoughtfully. Everything seemed clearer, and it was as if the fog in her mind that was keeping her from remembering her life—who she was, and where she came from, had begun to thin and scatter, and all her memories were more accessible than they had ever been. They seemed small fragile things that she had imagined.

"Merwyn?"

"Yes?"

"You never finished telling me about that riddle."

She smiled sadly. "It scares me, Edward."

He narrowed his eyes in concern and lifted his paw to put over her hand. She laughed tenderly at the gesture. "This is all so… odd."

He nodded. "Tell me about it."

She didn't think that he meant just the gesture, and so she told him about the riddle. About the sacrifice that must be made, and she saw his eyes grow dark at the mention of it. She sighed. "What do think it means?"

He paused in contemplation. "I think you're right. It is the answer to your curse. And, it means that you'll have to face the Witch, that she must be defeated. But for the curse to be truly broken, a sacrifice is required, and by someone who loves you."

She clenched her fist tightly to her sides, and stood to her feet. "I thought so."

A breeze slightly rustled Edward's fur, and he shivered involuntarily. "Merwyn, don't look like that. I know you feel like you shouldn't want freedom possibly at the cost of someone else's life, but, dearest, it is worth it! You have suffered enough! And whoever makes this sacrifice is willing; it says it in the riddle." He said this as if it seemed a bit of logic that she should take into account, but it only made Merwyn more uncomfortable that someone should want to risk their life, and possibly lose it, for her sake.

She made no expression, but stared forward blankly.

A loud shriek sounded in the distance, and Merwyn turned her head at the sound. Edward stepped protectively in front of her and she gave a start as she saw a dark figure moving at a quick pace toward them. Merwyn clasped at Edward's fur and he stiffened as the figure came into full view. "The Witch," he whispered, a hint of fear tainting his otherwise gruff voice.

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Ruskon ran through the forest as fast as his legs would carry him. He wanted to be away, away from Merwyn, away from that godforsaken lake with its golden rocks that glittered with promise never fulfilled.

Ruskon finally stopped running, and dust billowed into the air in thick clouds around his legs. He felt his anxiety begin to lessen; he hadn't been expecting to see Merwyn just then. He thought that he would have had time to prepare himself before he saw her, to explain to her properly what had happened to him.

He howled angrily, he knew himself for the coward he was for running away from his future. Merwyn was his family now, and at first they were bound together by obligation, and not by need or desire. Now, they were bound together by something infinitely deeper.

Ruskon breathed heavily as his lungs readjusted to him being immobile, and he closed his eyes in respite as he resolved himself to his task. He had to go back. He knew that. Merwyn had a right to know what had happened to him from his own mouth. He laughed at the thought that he had previously worried for her; that she might crack under the stress of isolation. She was much stronger than him in that regard and she probably always would be.

He turned back the way he had come, and walked slowly and deliberately in order that on the way back, he might have time for reflection. He felt like he didn't know himself anymore. He was intensely changed, and he would have to fight to remain human on the inside, even if he could not be human on the outside.

But, in the midst of his thinking, Ruskon heard a faint cry. He stilled himself and held his breath, so that he could hear better. His ears were pricked up, listening, and he at first thought that he had imagined the noise, because he did not hear it again. But, just as he began to relax, he heard the cry again, but this time it was louder and wilder, and it was definitely a female voice.

A shock of panic ran through his chest, and before he knew it, he was bounding through the forest. He prayed that it was not Merwyn whatever it was that made that unnerving cry, but his logical mind said that it had to be. Branches and leaves rushed past his vision in flashes and blurs. He felt rocks prick angrily at his feet, and his paws were covered in a wet stickiness that he faintly knew to be blood. He did not stop.

He emerged from the thick of the trees looking much worse for the wear. A branch had slashed across his face, and left a dark blood red streak against the grey fur. The pads of his paws were covered in blood, and dirt, and they had bits of rock stuck in them. He saw Edward poised in front of Merwyn in a defensive crouch, and Merwyn was standing straight-backed behind Edward, with a blank look on her face. He did not yet see what they were looking at and he shifted his gaze and was met with the Witch flying urgently toward Edward and Merwyn.

Ruskon's stomach dropped, and he wanted to vomit, but he continued to run toward them.

He heard Edward yell something unintelligible, and then finally he reached them. Merwyn gave him a sideways glance, and he nodded tersely to her. She looked back toward the Witch, and Ruskon realized that she must have never seen the Witch before. He wondered briefly what it must feel like to be finally greeted with the person that had decided what the course of ten years of your life would be like.

Merwyn did not change expression, and Edward continued to crouch protectively before her.

"So, you've found the riddle, little Merwyn? I was beginning to think that you never would. So now you want to escape!" The Witch smiled wryly at Merwyn. Her flesh was wrinkled and sagging, and it was a sickening yellow-jaundiced color. Her hair was grey, and coarse, and Ruskon was amazed that it was possible for her to look human, even if what she did look like was still pretty hideous.

Edward snarled. "You stay away from her!"

The Witch looked down at Edward, and it was as if she was seeing him for the first time. She appeared to be slightly dazed, and then she locked eyes with Merwyn again, all teasing gone from her face. In fact, she looked positively terrified.

"Moira?" she said suddenly, her face haggard. Merwyn gazed down at Edward, a question on her face. Edward looked horrified. Then the Witch's face lost all semblance of sanity, and she broke into a single shrieking scream that pierced

Merwyn's ears, and made Edward and Ruskon shrink to the ground. "You leave me alone, Moira!"

Ruskon and Edward looked at each other simultaneously. "What is she talking about?" Ruskon harshly whispered.

Edward only looked away from Ruskon toward the Witch, with his eyes growing wider. Merwyn took at step backward because the Witch seemed to be yelling at her with a rage that was almost inhumanly possible.

"I'm Merwyn! You're insane! If you're going to try to kill me and my family you should at least know who you're talking to!"

Ruskon and Edward both dumbly turned their heads toward Merwyn with fear and admiration painted in their eyes. "She's crazy." Ruskon said and Edward nodded.

"Merwyn, stop that! She'll kill you!" Ruskon hissed.

Merwyn shook her head stubbornly, her hair whipping wildly about her shoulders. "She's already taken everything I've ever had from me! My mother, my father—Ruskon…" She trailed off, but Edward and Ruskon could hear an intense anger in her voice, and she turned her green eyes on the Witch and did not waver.

The Witch stood staring wearily at Merwyn, her hands trembling. "I want you to die! You were born of my daughter! She was no good! She was weak! She was always weak! When I look at you I see her. She's been haunting me, you know? She won't leave me. I can't sleep or be in waking with out seeing her. Staring at me with her green eyes that are just like yours.

"She won't stop! She looks at me, and says in a voice I never heard from her when she was alive, 'Why did you do this to me?' That's all she says! Even in death she is mild! I want to die more than I desire to live, so that I can rest! So that I can close my eyes and know some sort of peace! She's always there, every corner I turn, she is there, constant as the sun." The Witch's voice was no more than a mere whisper.

"So, you see, little Merwyn, it wasn't that I thought you were your mother, it's that she's standing behind you, accusing me once more." Her eyes were transfixed to the distance, to some unseen phantom.

Merwyn shivered. "You're my grandmother and you killed her! You're a monster!"

The Witch laughed bitterly. "Yes. I am. I didn't used to be, though. That's what Moira said hurt the most. I used to be good and tender." Her face contorted, as if remembering something distasteful. She put a wrinkled hand up to her throat, and cupped it gingerly as if holding her throat would prevent her from being sick. "I was a good mother… once. But then, my husband died! He was murdered, and I had to take revenge!" The Witch looked into Merwyn's accusing eyes, and faltered, she resembled Moira so strongly. "I had nothing left! Nothing! It seems that all of me had to die in order to avenge my husband, and then I was this," the Witch waved her hand in front of herself for emphasis. "This thing that I am now. It seems that seeking others' demise has so blackened my soul, for I can barely remember how I used to be." She paused for a moment, and continued to stare back at the ghost of her murdered daughter, and her face grew red and flushed.

"But, I don't care!" she screamed. "I don't care anymore! Who I was is gone, and this is who I am!" Her eyes locked with Merwyn's in a fierce gaze. "You will pay for it, little Merwyn! You will pay for what Moira is doing to me! You mother died by my hand, and so shall you!" She raised her hand deftly, poised to strike. Her hand was tightly clasped around the ornate handle of a silver dagger, and she was running toward Merwyn before Ruskon or Edward had time to react.

Ruskon felt his vision go red, and all he could hear was his breath loud in his ears, he thought faintly that he could feel his legs moving, and a loud growl emitted out of his chest. He heard an anguished scream in the distance, and when he came back to himself, he saw Merwyn struggling with the Witch for mastery of the dagger. Both were fiercely wrestling, determined to overpower the other.

Ruskon realized that he had been trying, to reach Merwyn, but when he did, he was forcefully thrown back as if an invisible shield guarded the Witch and Merwyn from Ruskon and Edward. Across from Ruskon, Edward was pacing wildly around the invisible bubble, trying to find its weakness. He could not.

Ruskon watched in horror as the silvery tip of the knife began to inch toward Merwyn's chest, and he could hear the Witch laughing with pleasure. It's all over he thought blankly, a hollow started to develop in the pit of his stomach, and he continued to uselessly run up against the invisible shield.

It's all over.


	9. Chapter 9: Home

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**Author's Note:** _Thanks to all who reviewed Merwyn. I'm so glad that I decided to write and post this! It's been a really good growing experience for me in my writing! Thanks to Ann for the editing and advice! Please read and review, and I hope you guys all like the end! Happy holidays! _

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**Chapter 9**

Merwyn struggled violently for control of the knife. Her fingers dug deep into the Witch's skin, making imprints in the surface, as she tried to make the Witch drop the blade. It didn't work. Merwyn gritted her teeth, and tried a different tactic. She pushed hard against the Witch's steel grip, trying to throw her off balance, but the Witch remained determined, and the knife's blade inched nearer to her throat, the tip dangerously close to her soft flesh.

Everything seemed to be moving slow and fast, both at once, and she could hear all the little noises being made off in the distance. She could hear the rough scratching noises made by Edward's paws, as he paced frantically outside of the invisible shield. Merwyn could hear the Witch's breath coming out in harsh sobs that made it seem as if she would pass out eventually from hyperventilation. But, the Witch continued to be curiously strong, and she set her mouth and used the rest of her strength to bring the knife down on Merwyn.

Merwyn groaned loudly as she forcibly pushed the knife away from her throat. Her arm muscles burned with the effort, but she was able to lodge her knee into the Witch's stomach and shove the Witch off of her. The Witch landed on the ground with a hollow thud, and Merwyn hopped to her feet quickly.

"Leave me alone! I've done nothing to you!" she shouted, and the sound of her screaming voice surprised her, and she felt more confident now that she knew her voice wasn't trembling. She could do this. She could fight this woman who had destroyed her entire life. She could do it, because she had to.

The Witch shook her head back and forth like a dog shaking off water. "No. You will die, if it is the last thing I do." The bitterness that had formerly colored her voice was gone; it was now empty and hollow. Even her eyes were devoid of any telling emotion, and that fact alone was enough to frighten Merwyn even more.

Merwyn's heart was beating like a drum within her chest, and the adrenaline running through her body had begun to make her weary. Her knees were wobbling, and her hands were shaking. She briskly brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes, and her nostrils flared and she breathed in. No. She could not think of her bodily needs just now, she had to be completely focused on the knife in the Witch's hand, her mind bent on survival.

Edward was still howling angrily over and over, the invisible shield had made him utterly helpless. He tried uselessly one more time to jump onto the shield, hoping that he had found its weak spot. He didn't, and he was thrown vigorously back. He landed on the ground with a loud smack and he whimpered softly. It was no use, he couldn't get to her.

From the corner of Merwyn's eye, she could see the grey wolf with no name motionless, calm as the sea after a storm, staring at her unblinkingly, with a fear in his eyes that was unusual coming from the guise of such a great beast. She to forget his haunted eyes, and concentrate once more on the fight, but the Witch was still in the same spot she had been a few minutes earlier, she had not moved.

Unnerved, Merwyn untied her cloak, and let it fall silently to the ground, the heavy weight off her shoulders made her more comfortable. She kicked the cloak away from her feet. She was ready now. As ready as she would ever be, and so she stood taller and planted her feet firmly beneath her, and prepared for the next rampant attack from the Witch.

The Witch seemed to be listening to a sound in the distance that only she could hear, and she bobbed her head in acknowledgment. Then, without warning, the Witch lunged maniacally at Merwyn, her knife wielded again before her, and Merwyn neatly moved out of the blade's reach and grabbed the Witch's arm with a sickening twist that brought the Witch to her knees.

"Ahhh!" the Witch cried out in agony, her yellowed flesh going pale.

Then a red darkness fell over Merwyn, and she was no longer in control of her actions. She gave herself over to instinct. Her vision blurred, her senses dimmed and she reacted without conscious thought.

A sharp pain extended up the length of her arm, and she jerked back reflexively and held it gingerly against her chest.

Merwyn blinked mechanically and focused her gaze toward the ground where the Witch was on her knees, hands clasped tightly to her side. She was gaping in horrified shock at her wound, and blood softly colored her lips, making them look a dark stain against her unnaturally pallid skin.

Merwyn felt a cool metal against her skin, and she dazedly peered at her hand and saw the knife in her palm. Stunned, she dropped the blade, and stumbled clumsily backward. A wave of sickness rose over her and she covered her mouth with her trembling palm to contain it, her eyes widened and grew watery. That must have been the cause of the pain up her arm! She had stabbed the Witch and hit bone in the process. "What have I done?" she whispered to herself.

The invisible shield had begun to fade intermittently between a faint blue sheen when it flashed solid, and invisibility. Then it dropped away completely as the Witch's strength waned further. Edward and the nameless wolf came bounding up to Merwyn, both looking alarmed.

Edward inquired whether Merwyn was okay or not, and she numbly shook her head in confirmation, and he gave her a wary, unbelieving glance. "Later," he said in an uncharacteristically gruff voice, and Merwyn nodded tersely back. Then he strode cautiously toward the fallen form of the Witch.

The Witch reached out a hand to touch his fur; Edward flinched as if burned, and then was still. Her lips moved slowly as she said something to him, and only the nameless wolf's worried grey eyes staring into hers pulled Merwyn's focus away from the scene.

"Are you well? I know Edward just asked you that, but—you don't seem fine." He observed; his voice strained. He was trembling slightly, with anger or fear, Merwyn did not know.

She half-smiled, raked a hand through her long auburn locks, and then, the façade of the smile disappeared and she let out a short choppy sob that ended nearly as soon as it began. "What have I done?" she repeated aloud, anguish in her voice.

The grey wolf brushed his paw against her arm in what was meant to be a comforting gesture, but it looked quite awkward, almost as if he was petting her. She didn't seem to notice.

"Look at me," he said softly. Her eyes met his, and he held her gaze for a brief moment. "You did what you had to. Nothing more, nothing less. You don't need to feel guilty about her, okay?"

Merwyn bit her bottom lip in contemplation, but she couldn't stop seeing the image of the Witch on her knees, bleeding profusely from her stomach wound, dying. It was burned into her brain, something that would haunt her until she died.

"I know." She didn't sound as if she truly believed what she had said.

"Merwyn, she would have killed you." He said reasonably, a pleading tone in his voice.

"I know."

"Then, why do you look that way? As if you would rather it were you dying than her?" He was frustrated now, and he lifted his paw off of her arm, and set it firmly on the ground. "I don't understand. She's not worth a moment of your remorse, Merwyn!"

"I don't know. It's just that, I… someone is dying… because of me. She's my grandmother, and I killed her. I know I shouldn't feel guilty about it, I know! She's done such horrible things to me." She bit her lip as she tried to find the right words that would make him understand. "I—I don't want to be like her. If I am capable of murder, I am capable of other terrible things too. And I know that I'm so closing to being like that." She pointed with her eyes toward the fallen form of the Witch, who was still conversing intensely with Edward.

Ruskon followed her gaze, and then shook his head in exasperation. "You didn't commit murder, Merwyn. Murder and defending yourself are two different things. You defended yourself. And secondly, you're wrong. You're nothing like her! How could you even think that?" He sounded outraged, and Merwyn's brows creased in confusion.

"How would you know?! You don't even know me." She hung her head in the cradle of her hands.

"You're wrong, I do know you."

Merwyn's head lifted at that. "How?"

Ruskon took an unnecessarily deep breath, and nodded his head, accepting the fact that he could hide no longer. His concern had already revealed too much, and unlike Edward, his curse did not bind him to silence when it regarded Merwyn. So, in essence, there was no real reason not to tell her what had happened to him, except for his own cowardice. He was afraid to admit to her that he had failed. He had let himself be cursed, and he had barely fought back. He was afraid to tell her that he didn't think himself worthy of her, because he couldn't protect her. And maybe if he told her these things, she wouldn't want him anymore. But, being a coward was not something Ruskon took kindly too, and so he decided he would tell her. "It's me, Ruskon," he said lamely.

Merwyn momentarily forgot all about everything else. "Ruskon?" Her voice brightened considerably. She took in his wolfish countenance and she grew grave. "What happened to you?"

Her curse prevented her from remembering any interactions that she had with Edward. But, as the Witch's incredible powers began to dissipate, Merwyn realized that pieces, little fragments of memories began to become clear in her mind. But, they were so disconnected, and frail, that she had trouble understanding them, and now that Ruskon had declared himself, Merwyn could almost remember a meeting in the night. A harvest moon that had hung low over head, bathing her and another figure that she could not quite remember in a silvery glow that had set her hair afire. A curse. Yes, that was it. The shadowy figure had mentioned a curse, and she was sure it meant Ruskon.

"The Witch cursed me. She knew that we were planning to escape, and she wanted to separate us. Forever." The last word sounded awkward as he uttered it, and he half-turned away from her so that she could not see his face. He was ashamed of how he looked. He was a monster, and a doomed one at that.

"The curse! It's coming to an end! I found the key to it! It was in a book, and with the Witch's death… it will almost be broken." Almost. A sacrifice still had to be made. Someone who loved her must die, and she grew ever more terrified that she could not control her circumstances. She had never been able to control her situation before, but this was a time that she wished beyond all wishes that she could shield herself, and those she loved from the horrible things that always seemed to happen to her. She was a beacon for tribulation, and she knew it. Anything terrible that had happened to Ruskon was partially her fault. The Witch had wanted her to suffer, and by hurting Ruskon, she had gravely wounded Merwyn. Merwyn still felt a pang of guilt as she rejoiced in the Witch's death; she was the cause of it. She was a murderer, it didn't matter what Ruskon said. She knew what she was.

Ruskon nodded in agreement. He felt instinctively that everything was coming to end. It was part of his curse that made him have a deep connection with the Witch. He could hear some her thoughts and she his, and they had tormented him in his sleep so that he could find no rest. He shuddered to remember some of the malevolent thoughts the Witch had had. But he did not tell this to Merwyn.

Merwyn saw the look of sorrow on Ruskon's face, and misinterpreted his expression as brooding over their situation; she did the only thing she could think of, she hugged him tightly. "We won't think of it again. Don't worry, Ruskon, " she cooed into his ear. "Don't worry." She pulled away from him to measure his face. Ruskon smiled crookedly at her, it was a smile that he had often given her when he was human, and in his wolf form it looked odd, and slightly malicious. She laughed melodically at his strange face and hugged him again. "It's good to know you're alive, even if you _are_ a beast now." She teased slightly, her heart not truly in it.

He shot her a sarcastic glance and then was serious. "So you see? I do know you could be nothing like the Witch. I know you. Don't worry, Merwyn. You did what was right."

She gave him a wounded smile, and accepted the fact.

Ruskon snorted. "I was worried for a second there that you wouldn't make it out of this." He said it jokingly, but she could hear the underlying strain in his tone.

Merwyn brought a hand up to touch the side of his snout, and then to run her fingers over his thick grey fur. "You worry too much."

She hoped that the riddle was true and that when the Witch was dead that the curse would be broken for good. She didn't want Ruskon to have to spend eternity as a wolf, and she could tell that it had already changed him. He seemed much darker now than the impish boy who was first was banished into the wood. She hoped that boy would return, but maybe too much had happened to him for him to be the way he used to be.

Merwyn's attention wandered regretfully back to the Witch and Edward. The Witch had finally stopped speaking in whispers to Edward, and her hand that was grasping at his fur coat, fell lamely to her side.

Edward's eyes were dark with emotion as he backed away from her, and Merwyn and Ruskon migrated toward him. He stood unmoving before them; next to the Witch, who was not yet dead. Her eyes were fixed on Merwyn.

"Merwyn?" The Witch's voice was weak and hard to hear.

Merwyn gulped audibly. "Yes?" Ruskon pressed closer to her for support, her fingertips brushed the thick of his fur in grateful acknowledgment.

"Do you love this boy standing next to you?"

Merwyn turned her head to look down at Ruskon, and her breath caught in her throat, because instead of the body of a wolf as she had been expecting, she saw two human legs. Ruskon was standing beside her, a human and no longer a beast.

This time she let herself cry in earnest, and Ruskon hugged her ardently, pressing his face into her long hair, not caring that his shirt was getting soaked from her tears, and then he released her so that she could answer the Witch.

Ruskon was human again! That was the one thought that ran through her mind. He was restored to her. He was restored.

Merwyn used the back of her hand to wipe away the rest of her tears, and she gazed at Edward for encouragement. The darkness in his eyes lifted as he looked at her, nodded for her to answer. "It's okay." He mouthed, and she took comfort in his stolid presence.

"Yes, I do." Merwyn said tentatively. Ruskon tightly grasped her hand in his. What might happen to her if the Witch knew that she experienced some measure of happiness? It might all be taken in away in a second, never to return.

The Witch let out a gurgling laugh that chilled Merwyn deep into her bones. "You need not fear me, Merwyn. I'm dying. And soon your curse will be broken, and you will know what it is to live in the real world. You've won." The words were weighted coming out of the Witch's mouth, and her hands clasped tighter to her stomach where the wound was oozing blood, and all the blood that had been lost already was pooled on the ground and had seeped into the dry earth, staining it a morbid brownish-red color. "I am killed, Merwyn. But , you've read the riddle, no? I still get a bit of revenge. You know that my death is not enough. I must have a life for a life." The Witch coughed harshly, and blood speckled against her fist as she brought it to her mouth. "A sacrifice must be made, surely you didn't forget?"

Merwyn's heart dropped into her stomach, and she stood frozen like a deer in the path of a hunter, knowing that all had been lost in that split second of life. "What is your price? What sacrifice must be made?" Merwyn asked, her voice no more than a mere whisper. Her fingers dug deeply into Ruskon's skin, leaving red marks against the pink flesh, and he squeezed her hand with equal fervor. No, they could not be separated now, and so newly reunited. It was too cruel.

The corner of the Witch's mouth turned up sadistically, and she glanced at Edward with a knowing look. He kept his gaze on Merwyn. He needed to focus for what must be done now.

"No, Merwyn. It is I who will stay behind," h." He said.

Merwyn felt a pang of emotion that she could not contain, and she let go of Ruskon's hand and walked over to Edward. "Why, why would you do this for me? It's you that loves me most?"

Edward gave her a heartbreaking look, full of a plethora of emotions and words too vast to take in. He pressed his wet nose against her forehead, making her shiver at the contact of his cold skin, but the gesture was undeniably tender. "Merwyn, look at me. Really look at me. Can't you see? I am your father."

Merwyn gazed into his eyes, and the last hold of her curse dropped away, and she knew. She knew that she had always known that Edward was her father somewhere deep inside of her, but the fact had just been hidden from her by her curse, and his. She touched his face with her small hand, and he closed his eyes. "Father."

"I'm sorry you had to find out like this, Merwyn," hn." He said as he opened his eyes, his voice was cracked, and he tried to reign in the sob that threatened to escape from his mouth. "I'm sorry we didn't have more… time." Merwyn reached toward him, and pulled him into a tight embrace, that was gauche because she was kneeling and he could only hug her back by resting his head next to hers.

But, for the first time in ten years Edward did not feel homesick. He _was_ home.

"I was right. I have always loved you," ." She said softly.

Edward gave a small chuckle. "And I you, Merwyn. Your mother too. When you were born, she said you were the most perfect baby in the world." Edward He snorted at the memory. "She was right. You were perfect, to us."

"I wish that I could have known what you looked like, if this… this is going to be the last time I see you. Ever." Her hands were memorizing the lines of his beastly, yet elegant face, and he felt a sliver of regret that he could not use his hands to touch her.

Edward glanced over at the Witch who was watching them with a keen, if not failing interest. Her eyelids were growing heavy, and she lifted them up like weights that were becoming too hefty to bear.

"Witch, it is the end of your life., I know you care not for my family, and you have done everything in your power to destroy it. But, I ask you, no, I beg of you, grant me this one wish. iIf you are going to take me with you into the great unknown, then let my daughter see me as I truly am. Just once." Edward's voice was pleading, and yet firm, as if he could sound any other way, thought Merwyn. He didn't want to die a stranger to his only child.

The Witch's eyes fluttered open, as if she was seeing a great light, and her eyes were aglow with it. She made an awed noise. "Moira?" she said aloud. Edward glanced apologetically back at Merwyn, as if to say, 'I tried, and this was the best I could do.' But, the Witch let out a contented sigh, and then light disappeared from her eyes. "She says… Moira says, she'll leave me alone, she'll give me peace, if I give you what you want!" The Witch's hands were covered with wet sticky blood, and Merwyn wanted to vomit at the sight.

Edward turned toward Merwyn, excitement in his eyes, and she watched in horrified interest as he began to change. He screamed in agony as bones jutted out from fur, separating his wolf skin, until human flesh was revealed. He fell to his knees and his hands clutched madly at his chest, trying to grasp at the source of the pain, as it too began to rip apart and form into skin.

His face transformed last, but, Merwyn could only see the back of his head, as dark brown hair began to show through the white. And then he was shivering, on the ground, his naked body fully formed into that of a man. Merwyn turned her eyes ashamedly away, and Ruskon tactfully grabbed Merwyn's fallen cloak from the ground, and whirled it over Edward.

He lay still for a few moments, and then he sat gingerly up, treating his new limbs as if they were frail, breakable things. One curious hand shot up to explore the curves of his face, and he gave a faint cry at feel of his skin, then his hand traveled farther up to his hair that was dark against the olive colored skin. Then he swathed the cloak around him, preserving his modesty, while simultaneously mentally cursing the Witch for making his transformation excruciatingly painful, while Ruskon's seemed instantaneous. Maybe it was a last bit of revenge on her part, that and not giving him any clothes in the transformation process. But, this he chalked up to her waning mental capacity. He laughed internally, the things he was thinking! He was human again! He had to enjoy it while it lasted.

Merwyn gave a teary eyed grin to Ruskon, and he gave her one back.

"Go," he said.

She nodded. "Okay." Her heart beating out a disjointed rhythm that seemed to mark her steps one at a time.

She approached Edward cautiously, for some reason apprehensive at finally seeing the father that she had longed for her entire life. He was her last and only link to her past, and he would be gone forever in a few minutes.

She stopped in front of him, and brought a quivering hand to her throat. He looked just as she had imagined. He had dark brown hair the color of chocolate that was growing grey around his ears. His eyes were a deep emerald green, just like hers, and his skin was a few shades darker than her own. He had a lithe, athletic build, and he was quite tall, his limps long and graceful.

"Oh. It's you," she said simply, and she dropped to her knees and put her head in the crook of his shoulder. The corner of his mouth twitched into a timid smile. He briefly wrapped his arms around her, one hand touching her soft auburn hair. Then he pulled away.

"We don't have much time. The Witch is almost dead, and I still have much to tell you before I go with her. No, don't cry," he soothed, as he stood to his feet, the cloak still wrapped around him, revealing his bare shoulders and arms. He pulled Merwyn up with him. He bent quickly and kissed her forehead. "Ruskon, come over here please, this concerns you too.

"Promise me—promise me that you'll take care of my daughter."

Ruskon took Edward's hands in his and squeezed them tightly in his own. "I promise." His voice was solemn and Ruskon noted that Edward was none the less dignified, despite being wrapped in a woman's traveling cloak.

Edward appraised Ruskon's eyes for a brief moment, and then smirked ironically. His gaze flickered over to Merwyn, and he grazed her cheek with the back of his hand. "She's all that will be left of me, and Moira."

Merwyn's tears ran down her cheeks like tiny, salty rivers that she didn't bother to wipe away. "Don't go," she whispered, reaching toward him instinctively, her voice hoarse.

Edward's green eyes darkened, and he gave her a lopsided grin, his white teeth exposed. He hugged her tightly, his voice muffled by her hair. "I have to, dear one. You know I do. You're going where I cannot follow, and it breaks my heart. But, I have not been able to give you many things in my life, let me give you this. Let me give you a chance at life, dearest."

Merwyn shook her head adamantly to refuse, but Edward stopped suddenly, his back stiffening, and whirled toward the Witch. Her breathing was more shallow, and her skin was stretched like rubber across her bones, making her face look even more sallow than before.

He turned back toward Merwyn, his face urgent. "Shh. There's not much time! Know that I will always love you, and that I want you to be happy; your mother would have too. You resemble her so much that it hurts a bit to look at you." He enveloped her hands in his, "Live well, Merwyn. The world is going to seem strange to you at first, and so big! But, there is so much to experience, take advantage of it. And—and know that I'll be waiting for you. Your mother and I will both be waiting for you, when the time has come for you to pass from this world into the next, you'll see us again. Goodbye, daughter, and go in peace." He planted a kiss on her forehead, his lips quivering. He turned to go, but Merwyn pulled him back.

"Father, are you very afraid to die?"

He laughed lightly, and shook his head. "I will not lie to you, Merwyn. I am afraid to die. I'm afraid of what I do not know, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. But, I'll get to see your mother again. I've missed her so. That will make everything worth it to me, beloved. But, I've got to go now, the Witch is calling me to join her. She's held on as long as she could, and now death is coming to her. She couldn't fight it off forever."

Merwyn reluctantly released his hand from her grip, and she let her arms fall dully to her sides. Edward's face was drawn and pale, but he nodded stiffly, and turned his back toward Merwyn, and walked with weighted steps toward the Witch.

She would never see her father alive again, and yet, somehow she didn't feel mournful. She would see him again, she knew. Ruskon walked up beside her, and put his arm around her shoulder. He had discreetly wandered away in order to give Merwyn and Edward privacy in their last moments together. Not many people were fortunate enough to know the hour of their death, and to set things right. Edward did know the hour of his death, and had made his peace with his daughter. He could die now, afraid or not.

Edward sank to his knees on the ground next to the Witch, and Merwyn wanted to run toward him, but Ruskon's firm grip on her shoulders was restraint enough to keep her wobbling legs in place. Edward took the Witch's frail hand in his own, and leaned over to whisper in her ear. The Witch nodded weakly, and Merwyn wondered what Edward had said to her.

"Let's go then," Edward said firmly. The Witch clamped her eyes tighter shut, and her breathing drew to a wheezing last draw, and then her features relaxed, and Merwyn knew she was dead.

Edward glanced up at Merwyn and kept his eyes on her as it began to happen. First his legs disappeared and wafted into nothing, and then his torso. The Witch's feet and legs were already gone, and she too was fading into oblivion, into the next world, the great unknown as Edward had called it. Merwyn's sob was stuck in her throat, as Edward's neck was all that was left, his eyes still focused on her, never wavering.

And then he was gone.

Merwyn sobbed harshly, and Ruskon hugged her tightly to himself. "It's all right, it's okay. Shh," he murmured. She nodded weakly, and he ran his fingers soothingly through her hair. "It's all over."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, and before Merwyn had time adjust, the thick of the wood disappeared from view, and they were standing in the midst of night on a dirt path, and Ruskon could hear the ocean in the distance, lapping contentedly against the rocks.

Merwyn's eyes widened in shock, and she forgot about her grief for Edward for a moment. She backed away from Ruskon, and looked about her, but there was too much around to take in.

Lush grass grew thick on each side of the path, and it seemed to stretch infinitely in both directions. "Where are we?" she asked, awed.

Ruskon shook his head in confusion as he turned to observe the scene about them. "I don't know, exactly. Wait here," he said and wandered along the path until he was out of sight.

Merwyn's legs felt like weak sticks beneath her, and so she sat heavily in a whirl of skirts on the ground. Her fingers flexed and then grasped on the grass underneath her, and she closed her eyes and listened to the sounds off in the distance. Everything was so incredibly foreign to her. Crickets were chirping tirelessly behind her, their night symphony had been disrupted by her presence, but it continued unbidden quickly.

The night air was like silk against her skin, and she stretched languorously against the grass, enjoying the texture of it on her legs. So this was freedom. This is what she had wanted all of her life. It wasn't so much her surroundings that she had ached for with every fiber of her being, although, it was an added bonus. It was more the feeling of infinite possibility that was pressing heavy against her ribs, making it hard to breathe.

She opened her eyes, and the moonlight shone down in an opaque beam upon the path and she noted curiously that it looked different in this world. Father away somehow. This is what Edward had died for. This. For her to live. The tears in her eyes fell down the sides of her cheeks without her permission, and she hastily wiped them away, not wanting to cry on what should be a happy occasion. "Thank you," she whispered tenderly to the ghost of Edward, her eyes still on the moon.

Ruskon's tall, dark figure emerged on the path a few seconds later, and he ran excitedly over to her. He grabbed her hands and pulled her up to her feet. "We're home," he said exuberantly.

She touched his cheek with her fingertips, and he put his hand over hers, pressing it closer to his face. "Where's home?"

His teeth were a startling white in the darkness. "England. The cliffs of Dover are just over there." He pointed down the path, where he had come from. "We're about half a day's journey from my home." His hand had moved to touch a few wild strands of her hair, and he smoothed them down. "And yours too." He added.

She became conscious of her appearance for the first time. She thought she must look a fright. Her hair was careening wildly in all directions, her face stained with tears. No matter, there was nothing she could about it now. "Show me these cliffs."

He led her down the path, and the dirt and rocks crunched soothingly under her feet. A few minutes later, the edge of the cliffs came into view. A primal bleached white under the light of the moon, Merwyn stepped out onto the hard rock, and walked solemnly to the edge. Her figure was stark against the blue-black sky; the moonlight washed away her features, blending them into the horizon.

Ruskon hung back, letting her discover everything on her own.

The pungent saltiness of the sea was the first thing to reach her nostrils, and then her eyes were met with incredible sapphire-colored enormity of the ocean. She took it all in silently, and then a slow smile crept across the contours of her face. The ocean breeze bit at her skin, and ruffled her hair, making it whip against her face and neck. But, she did not care.

"I'm home." She said aloud to herself, and the infinite possibilities that were pressing against her ribcage made her chest tighten, and she brought a hand up to bear down on the tightness.

Ruskon was already beside her, eyes fixed on the distance.

"We both are."

**The End**


End file.
